Reboot
by drolldeviance
Summary: My take on Reptilia28's challenge. Harry dies. Again. And is sent back with memories intact to make things right. Harmony.
1. Potter

**Author's Note:**

I have decided to do a complete rewrite of my story, Reboot. I'm deleting the old one and putting this one up because… hell, I dunno what came over me, to be honest. But I think this will be a little more, oh, I don't know, realistic? Possibly? Yes. Let's go with that. There won't be (much) Weasley bashing here, hopefully, and I've changed lots of things in between. I hope you enjoy.

My take on the challenge issued by "Reptilia28".

Verbatim:

A funny little challenge I just came up with. It's a comical twist on the time-travel category.

**STORYLINE:**

*****Harry is killed at 17 during a fight with Voldemort. He's sent to his Death's office (explained later) and finds out that this isn't the first time that this has happened.

*****Harry's Death (who can have a human name) is mad at his arrival. Apparently, people dying before their time is a black mark on the various Deaths' records, and Harry is getting perilously close to getting this particular one fired.

*****When Harry asks what was supposed to have happened, Death goes off on a rant saying how he was supposed to have killed Voldemort, found his soul mate ("Some Granger girl...") and lived to be a centennial age. But since Harry keeps getting into life-threatening situations for one reason or another, he keeps dying before that happens. Harry is surprised about the soul mate part.

*Death gives Harry a paper to sign that allows him to retain his memories (the previous times, he wasn't given this option for some reason). Harry is deposited to a previous time of the writer's choosing.

*****Eventually, Harry gets it right. He kills Voldemort, gets the girl, and lives to a ripe old age of whatever. And Death doesn't get fired.

**REQUIREMENTS:**

*****Harry had to have died at least three times before this one.

*****The memory keeping contract must be included.

*****Death must refer to Hermione as "some Granger girl" when Harry's soul mate turns up in his rant.

*****Obviously, must be H/Hr.

*****Have fun.

**OPTIONAL:**

*****Dumbledore's manipulations can be a factor in Harry's premature demises.

**DISCLAIMER:**I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did though.

"If someone can tell me why the bloody hell we haven't resolved this issue that would be fantastic. Thank you." The acerbic note of Reaper Ltd.'s Chief Executive Officer cut through the boardroom, the posh oak desk and the executives sitting on the chairs around it all shuddered at the force of the CEO's voice, none unable or unwilling to give any excuse as to why the British Situation was not at all fixed yet.

"Potter!" the CEO barked, staring at the green eyes of the Director named Potter, who gulped audibly in fear, an emotion almost foreign and yet here Potter was, staring right at the dark eyes of Reaper Ltd.'s CEO, an aptly named Mr. Grimm, wondering just what sort of answer one could give in that situation without being fired on the spot. None, unfortunately, seemed to come to mind, and it was only the sound of an opening door that saved Potter from a very public stammering.

The secretary entered quickly, whispering hushed tones to CEO Grimm, who from time to time looked at his team of executives and then returned to focusing on what the man said. Dismissing him, Mr. Grimm shot an angry look at them, a soft growl emanating from his throat before clearing it and beginning.

"As of 2:07PM today, 140,000 unscheduled arrivals have passed through our doors, costing us almost six million in Spectral Pounds and the figures are rising. Accounting expects another three hundred thousand to pass through our doors in the next 12 hours due in most part to the rampage by Subject 201513 from current events. It is expected that if we allow this timeline to happen then by the end of the fiscal year, our stock value will be at S£0.24 a share, a 1000% decrease.

The pale look on their faces only made him nod. "We cannot risk investor confidence dwindling especially during this time. Client knows we're not going down as the company that started the Death Management bubble bursting." A deep inhalation supported him through everything he had said. Only with that idea did the gravity of what was to come next.

"Potter. I'll fast track the papers and get it done in the next three hours. Brief them while it's being done and teach those kids cheats or something if you have to. I refuse to do all the work in this bloody company." The snide comment did not go unnoticed as the man disappeared with a pop. The other executives winced, even the pop sounded annoyed.

_Smartest witch of her generation my arse. Couldn't see true love if it stared at her in the face._

Potter fumed at the realisation that her client, one Hermione Granger was all for messing up what was written in the book of destinies long ago codified by people who did not understand just exactly what "free will" meant and how it would affect a book of "destiny" that currently had just about as much importance to the universe as a bag of stale crisps.

Although to be fair, a bag of stale crisps did sound really good right about now, having not eaten in a full day.

"Harry!" An all-too familiar voice rang in the offices of the Director, Wizarding Affairs, face shooting up from the document Potter had been reading. Sighing, Potter sat on her desk, waiting for the all-too-common reaction of the other person.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, his arm still outstretched although there was no wand there now, just air.

"Right." The female who had not had a very good morning moved to settle things down between them, two cups of warm tea were waiting on the opposite side of the table, another on hers from which she took a sip.

"Good, you're both finally done with processing. Harry. Hermione."

The greeting had almost gone unnoticed until Harry Potter's head snapped towards that direction. "Mum!"

"Yes. Yes. Mum. It's me. It really is. Yes. You're dead. This time, from a very nasty Avada Kedavra curse, while Hermione here was hit with the same Killing Curse from jumping in front of you." Lily E. Potter did not look at her son, although she had wanted to. It was unfair. Life was unfair. Life was unfair because "destiny" and "free will" were very different things and yet the universe required a modicum of both to function properly.

Harry, however, was far too focused on seeing his mother for the first time although the joy of such a meeting was tempered greatly by a small fact. "Dead?" he croaked, then stopped, face paling at the thought while Hermione swooned at the same realisation beside him.

"Dead. Yes. Now go on, Harry Potter, you go drink your tea before it gets cold." Irrelevant, a part of her mind said. She could have just cast a warming spell on it but she was far too angry at herself to trust her wand holding abilities and the two were more worse for wear, not to mention the wands were still in Quarantine, and it didn't matter anyway. Harry James Potter would drink his bloody tea because his mother bloody told him to.

"You too, Hermione. Sit down." She snapped and Hermione jolting back into reality.

"But…" she tried to begin, her rational mind unwilling to accept the fact that she was dead when she was very much alive.

"No. Drink your bloody tea, Hermione Jean Granger. You will do that and keep quiet or so help me…" she trailed off, returning to the document that contained all of the important bits she would have to once again tell them.

The two slowly sat onto the comfortable chairs, far more comfortable than anything both had experienced in a very long time. Weeks of stress seemed to peel off, helped by the tea that was just the way that both wanted it.

"Mum." Harry finally said, still stricken by the primal fear of one's mother's anger.

"I love you too, Harry. But we've been through this six bloody times before. So there's really not much to say except I'm bloody disappointed in you." She eyed him, unable to contain the foul words.

"I mean seriously! Stupefy against Avada Kedavra? Bloody shite spellcraft, that's what it is." No one had ever told Harry that his mother was foul-mouthed, although he was starting to learn that now. Whether or not this part of Lily Potter was common was beyond him. After all, in his world, he had never seen his mother except now.

Hermione, for her part, slowly nodded, agreeing that perhaps a Stunning Spell was not the best choice of defence against the Killing Curse. In retrospect, of course it was clear, but she was hardpressed to find an alternative.

"Protego Maxima, then you hit the shield with an Expulso to deflect the Killing Curse." She answered Hermione's unspoken question. It was a novel idea, but one that had saved her many times when she was hard pressed to counter the curse directly.

"Ahhh…" she placed both hands on her faced, slowly peeling off what layers of stress she could as the two turned to each other, still processing the idea of casting a curse on a charm. "Protego Totalum could work too, or even just Protego, but dodge quick." She noted, then looked at the both of them.

The silence that erupted from the room was unbearable. Only the distraught breathing of Harry, who was still in the process of realising just how dead and in trouble he was, could be heard. The sharp inhalation prepared him for the next question in the long series of questions his mind was preparing.

"I've been dead before?" he asked softly, his hand shaking, making the teacup shake with it.

"Six times. You too Hermione. Far too many to recall, but the highlights being not riding Buckbeak with a saddle." She paused at that. "Harry, that's why we invented saddles, dear. They're very useful in keeping you on the bird." She said pointedly.

"Then there was the time you insulted the snake before your first year, telling it that its mother was so fat…" she chuckled, unable to continue the joke. "I won't go there." She finally said, then looked at Hermione. "You too, young lady. It took you four times to get the Time Turner thing down pat. Once, you were so sleepy you toyed with it in your hand, turning back time so much that it was 1921 for you. The Universe, of course, instantly killed you for not being supposed to exist." She pursed her lips at that, the redhead, who didn't seem like she aged a day from the last time she held Harry in her arms was even more disappointed at Hermione.

_Smartest bloody witch of her generation…_

"But what are we doing here?" Harry was now slightly panicking, as was expected, looking around to try to make sense of it. His last view was a flash of green over the Hogwarts Courtyard, and then a flash of pink.

"Well, the sixth time you both died was today. Bad day to die, as it turns out. Since you're down to one last chance at living, with you being soulmates. Very bad." She expelled a humph at that.

"Soulmates?" Hermione finally spoke, looking at Harry.

"Soulmates." Lily replied, then beginning another narration.

"Here's the thing." She began. "Every person born in the world has a destiny. It's not clearcut, mind you. There's no point in a clear-cut destiny for anyone. It's really just a register of birthdates and death dates, what you do in between is all up to you. But once the death date is reached, the person dies by some way or another. Another department handles the hows, but from what I know, it can be as pretty as dying in your sleep, or as ugly as being hit by three _reductos_ without much time to react." They all winced at the thought.

"Not important, though. We all know how you both died. And for the sixth time, I have the joy to tell you that it's not your time to die yet." Lily felt glad about that, at least. The smile was genuine, one that warmed both hearts. "From what the Bureau of Possibilities tell us, Harry James Potter was supposed to…" she trailed off, opening the file then continuing.

"Live until October 14, 2090 aged 110 married to…" she shot a look at Hermione, a very protective one. "Some _Granger_ girl." She smiled a bit afterwards, however, to Hermione's relief. Lily Potter was scary. No wonder James Potter fell in love with her. "With several grandchildren." She finished, closing the file.

"Most of it was conjecture, of course. But the soul bound aspect did give us a clearer view of what was in store for you." Lily said. "Of course, fate and destiny and all the good things about free will just destroyed it." She sighed.

"Dead." Hermione's throat somehow gave the words that made it all the more real.

"Aren't we done with this part?" Lily snapped, eyes glaring, but sighing. "I know. It seems rather cool-hearted of me, but it is what it is." Her face broke into a smile at seeing her beloved son again. "Oh Harry." Her arm reached out towards their end of the table, Harry's reflecting the action.

"But Ron…?" Hermione was in no state to be thinking, much less realising that she was disturbing an extremely loving act between mother and child.

"Not yet dead. Still fighting. If the predictions are correct, he won't be dead for another two years, fighting the good guerilla fight." Lily returned to the cold voice that she used around her clients and subjects.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. It was daytime, the windows flooded sunlight so un-British that Harry and Hermione almost knew they were in another world.

"Reaper Ltd. Headquarters. Far away." Lily answered. "It's like the Afterlife, only with less pole dancers." She chuckled to herself.

"The point is, you're dead. And you're not supposed to be. Why you're dead is because Voldemort is an extremely powerful wizard." She paused, looking at them looking back at her expectantly.

"Yes. That's it. That's all there is to it, really." She shrugged. "Did you really think that a boy your age could defeat a Dark Wizard whose levels of remorse, the main battery for dark magic, amount to nil?" brows creasing, she continued.

"That's…" Hermione mumbled, before nodding in assent. Perhaps the combined abilities of more accomplished witches like McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape could have bested Riddle enough to allow Harry the killing blow – although Harry's ability to even cast the Killing Curse was debatable – but they did not have that luxury and in hindsight, they never truly did.

"But you said we were soul mates." Harry, finally, had gotten to the important bit of Lily's tirade.

"Yes. Soul mates. People whose souls are extremely intertwined that the fates, from beginning to end, have conspired to keep them together." She lifted a finger. "What the fates can't do is make them fall in love with each other."

She looked at the two expectantly, hoping to hit two birds with one stone by making them look at each other and seeing them fall madly in love. Of course, like many other things living or dead, it wasn't meant to be and they simply looked at each other in bewilderment.

"But I love Ron." Hermione said, looking at her best friend, her other best friend.

"And I…" Harry paused, swallowed then shook his head. Harry knew the answer to that. He had stopped being in love with Ginny a long time ago, long before the two of them were together in the forest, long before that feeling of despair sank that would have made him question if he was only feeling that way about his female best friend because of the stress of saving the Wizarding World.

"No." Hermione's eyes widened at that, lifting herself out of her chair. "Harry. No." she said, begging him to say that it wasn't so. She loved Ron. Harry was a good man, but not the one for her, she believed.

"Sorry." Harry whispered, looking down at his lap. "I thought I could just hide it." He chuckled mirthlessly. "But yes." He looked up at her, begging her to forgive him. He had long accepted that Hermione's heart did not belong to him. That the piece of unrequited love that he held in his heart was one of the many defeats he would have to endure. Voldemort was another, and he was surprisingly ambivalent about the fact that he had been defeated by both.

"Yes. Well. Sorry, son." Lily broke the awkward silence that had permeated between the two. She did not plan on outing Harry in front of his love, but it was a necessity. The boss had told her to give them full disclosure. This was as full as it got.

"Since you and about a hundred thousand other witches and muggles are a couple of decades early for your visit here at Reaper Ltd., we have been given permission to send you back in time, to when you could change the past. Maybe get a head start on the Horcrux hunt bit. Stop Dumbledore from being such a showoff, that sort of stuff." She pulled out a pen but was interrupted by Hermione who had sat down.

"Professor Dumbledore wasn't a showoff."

Hermione did not want the Headmaster's name sullied. For good reason, Lily supposed. She turned to Harry who nodded, vehemently.

"Then why in Merlin's name does he only appear when he can do the best good? And you'd think a wizard like him would be able to Apparate properly without being afraid of splinching. But no. He always bloody appears at the last minute." She said, smiling wryly at them.

"Keeping things secret from the whole order when the lot would give their lives to save Britain? Do you think things would be better if the lot of them just went out and looked for all the Horcruxes at the same time?" she growled now, growing angrier with every word. There were caveats to her argument, she knew, but none of them relevant. They were the Order of the Phoenix, after all, and they had all chose to lay down their lives for the greater good, even if it meant death. They could have helped, they knew they all could have helped. Why the old man kept it from them was a mystery.

"And let us not, please let us not, forget the catastrophe that was leaving you with Vernon." Lily spat the name out with more venom than all of the Order saying "Voldemort" combined.

"You know, Petunia used to be nice. I would think that she would find enough kindness to care for my son, her own nephew. But Vernon, the man's a menace! A reason to hate someone if there ever was one. Poisoned my own sister's thoughts." She sighed, near tears.

"Jealous, sure. Petunia was always jealous of my magic, but we had a good relationship, she and I. We were good to each other. But Vernon." She growled the name, then stopped, looking at the two with shame. Shame, perhaps, for her sister, and for the way her own blood treated her child.

Harry, however, was in no mood to speak of Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, although they felt the better option to think or speak about entirely. Like any person, he was more focused on being revealed as falling in love with his own best friend, a best friend that was also in love with his other best friend. He was only half listening, half ashamed at himself. _It's nice to know that we're soul mates…_ He thought.

Not that anything would ever happen, of course. Like his mother said, everyone still had free will. So the living of old age with the Granger girl of his dreams with grandchildren was a fanciful rendition of "Never Gonna Happen, mate."

Perhaps, in a way, this was a good thing. He had been thinking for months on how to get over her. Perhaps inadvertently telling her – through his own dead mum – was the best way to do it. Even if it really hurt now. She rejected him, after all.

It was funny, really. For all the times Ron wanted to be Harry, it was sufficient payback that right now, Harry really wanted to be Ron.

"Then who can we trust?" his thoughts were broken by Hermione, who wasn't thinking about it at all and more focused on the mission.

"That really depends on you. Not everything is set in stone, you know." Lily smiled back at her. She was ignoring Harry for a reason, that being he still needed to get over the feeling that he was feeling. _Just like his father._ She thought, adding to the grin.

"I will give you my personal vouch for Remus, Sirius, and Severus. If no one else, those three know exactly what's going on. Not to mention that they're your father's and my best friends." Lily said, now returning to Harry who looked up.

"Dad was never best friends with Snape." Harry said, the only thing he could add to the conversation.

"Not publicly, but they were good friends, really. At first, they weren't, of course. He was my best friend up until James pirated me away from him. We all knew he loved me, but he was too much of a gentleman to do anything bad." Lily shrugged, looking far away to the wall of her office. "He accepted that a long time ago. And when he was a Death Eater, he realised that they would come after me and so he joined the Order through Dumbledore." Lily explained.

"At times, he would be the only one available to take watch upon the house. Those days when your father felt too cooped up, he would call on Severus when he was available to take care of me and you then go out and get some fresh air." She continued. "Over time, they started talking, long past the point of being mean to each other. And in a way, they became good friends. James would never admit it, and even now that he's very dead, he won't admit that Snape does have a place in his circle of best friends." She laughed. "Of course they had to pretend that they hated each other, but that was easy. Mostly because of habit than anything else. It helped that Severus was a brilliant occlumens and could hide those memories of them drinking tea and arguing over which spell and potion to best use when hit with a bat-bogey hex. But they, like me and him, very good friends."

It was enough of a story to shock Harry back from the pit of self-loathing that he was slowly creating. The image of Severus and his father in a friendly argument over Bat-Bogey Hex cures was enough to do so. It made sense, he knew, in a way. But he was institutionalised with the idea of Snape hating his father and vice-versa. Only now did it dawn upon him that his mother was an extremely powerful witch not due to some extreme form of magic, but because she had done the impossible of making Snape and Potter friends.

"When they needed to speak candidly, as friends, they would always tell each other a very particular line." Lily was now extremely nostalgic, but was pleased to note that Hermione was keeping notes in her head. "'Oil and Water, and Lillies.' They would always say." Lily drifted off for a moment, in a memory long past, of arguments over tea and hexes and curses, of the two of them laughing as if things from the past never truly happened.

"Dumbledore was against the possibility of them being friends, I think. How different they were, after all." She said quietly now, the anger returning.

She stood, however, clearing her head. "But that's done, and James is here, and Severus will be returning shortly when you do, his memories wiped of the Afterlife like everyone else." She looked at them now.

"Except the two of you."

Harry Potter's hopes that the reveal would be forgotten were dashed by that.

"You two, being soul mates, have your lives inextricably linked, and so we can't just leave Harry's memories intact but yours wiped. Nothing that happens to one of you won't have an effect on the other. Nothing fancy like getting hurt when he is, but when one of you dies, the other follows. It is imperative that you two keep yourselves together then." Lily said.

"I have the paperwork here, but what's missing is when we should bring you back." She began. "Because of temporal fluctuations, we can't go back any further than your fifth year. Voldemort must be reincarnated so that he can die properly, but the earliest I can place you is a week before your fifth year." She looked at the two, waiting for them to agree or disagree. Harry, she then noticed, was still looking at his lap, thinking, while Hermione who was normally very chatty, asking about things in general, was simply looking at her expectantly, completely out of her element. Or perhaps her mind froze at the multitude of questions to ask, Lily mused.

"Right. Well, if you've got nothing else? I'll be sending you back to processing now so you can jump back through time to fix something that should have been done six times ago." She waited for more questions, begging them to ask so that they could be helped into fixing the mess that just wouldn't right itself.

It was Harry, however, not Hermione who raised a hand. "Can we tell anyone about this?"

Lily nodded, surprising them both. "Yes, but do so under only the most extreme circumstances. Or only to those you trust. I would suggest Lupin, Sirius, and Severus and whoever you think is worth telling it to. But you can only do so if you both agree on telling the person. If one of you disagrees, then the other will be physically incapable of doing so." She explained. "And remember, you two are intertwined in ways that we cannot even understand. From what we can tell, there's no fancy magic, or growing stronger when you're together, the only caveat being that you are both going to die at the same time. At best, a day late of each other. That's it." She looked at Hermione, expecting questions.

"Why do we have to do this?"

Hermione's question took Harry by surprise, who looked at her incredulously.

"I mean, if we died now, what difference would it make if we died in a hundred years?" She added quickly. Her tone said that she was not shirking from her responsibilities, but only through the mindset of one who had learned to accept death's permanence. To find out that she had died six times before and would live seven times was unfathomable to her rational brain.

"Because everyone who dies passes through the Door of Judgment. It's a useful little door that checks the destined death date of a person with the current date. Behind the door is the actual afterlife. This is more like… Death Management, really." Lily shrugged, unsure of how exactly to term it. "We make sure the book is right, if it's not, we keep the soul around until it does. That costs us money. Which means it's in the company's best interests to make sure people die when they're supposed to. Because really, if they don't, they fade away, and there's no hope of reincarnation or a happy death for them. Sad, isn't it? They're even denied a proper death." Lily tilted her head thoughtfully. In all her years working there, she had been posited the question many times and it was still hard to wrap her mind around it too.

"But Dad…?" Harry looked at her mother who laughed.

"Out watching the Quidditch game with his mates. He'll be called back in to work though, even if it's his day off. The sooner we get this done the faster your father and I can get back to having se-"

Harry raised a hand at that, eyes widening. "Didn't need to know that." He said quickly and his mother looked down, embarrassed.

"Yes. Of course. You're right. Any other questions?" she cleared her throat before asking.

"Just one more." Hermione raised her hand reflexively.

"What is it?" Lily pulled out her wand, looking at them.

"Where do we begin?"

"Easy, really. Make sure you do things your way. Think about it. You may not have the same feelings for each other but you two are soul mates, best mates for the rest of your lives and if you don't want to end with everyone dying, start from the beginning. Start from what you can change." Lily readied her wand and the two nodded, looking at each other, then looking back at Lily E. Potter, who smiled.

"Now I'll need you to sign here, and here, with your wands… they're in your pockets, dears, and just point and agree." Lily swished her wand and two parchments apparated in front of them, the two nodded slowly, seeing the words "Reaper Ltd. Memory Contract Form 0461-A" in heavy ink on the upper right side.

"When you're done, you'll instantly be sent to processing, the first thing you'll remember when you return to the MC…"

"MC?" Hermione couldn't resist asking.

"Mortal Coil, bit of tradespeak there, sorry. The last thing you'll remember is signing your names. Alright?" she looked at the two expectantly, and they nodded. Lily walked towards Harry and hugged him, who returned the hug gingerly, almost unsure as to what to do.

"It's alright, sweetie." She said, consoling her only son. It was bad enough that he had to die that day, but to be rejected was almost a foul.

"Thanks, mum." He whispered back and then looked at Hermione, who looked at him back, a million questions he didn't want answered raged behind those eyes as he felt the magic pulse through the wand and into the parchment, the world turning a blinding white as he did.


	2. Suspension of Disbelief

**Author's Note:**

For those looking at Weasley bashing, then this isn't the story for you. Well, okay, maybe just a little bit for you. I'll be toning that down as best I can and no love potions here, folks. Just the sad twist of fate.

I'll be borrowing things from both the Movieverse and the Bookverse for this, as both are technically canon. For those of you who prefer one to the other, that's fine. But please don't point out that "this didn't happen in the book!" and so on because you have been forewarned.

Finally, thank you for your reviews. For those of you who were around during the first Reboot, thank you for staying. I'll be going slower this time and not the "two chapters a day" streak I did the last reboot. Hopefully the story will make more sense.

As always, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise and I hope you enjoy reading.

* * *

**2 August, 1995**

In all honesty, Hermione would be the first to consider a relationship with Harry. She did, too, briefly, when she was 14, in their third year just before her birthday. Ron was, back then, being impossible and Harry was being his usual moody self. She remembered poring over the books in the library only to have her concentration wrecked by sudden flashes of Harry's smile. It was a short period of questioning her own sanity, but one that faded, like many other things although it lasted for a year. A small crush, one she kept small. It was Harry, after all.

It was only the next year that she realised that Harry would never think of her that way. The small crush faded in the veil of rationality and her heart eventually followed. She would never admit it but the time when Ron was the one chosen as Harry's target for the Goblet of Fire test hurt her more than she thought it would. Somehow, Dumbledore and the rest of the Headmasters decided that Ron was a better friend than Hermione or so it seemed to her. She knew differently, of course. But it felt that way.

And so her small crush on Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, vanished. Knowing that she was not as important as others in his life. She accepted it with grace, but the crush and longing disappeared. She was again Hermione, Harry's best friend. _The less important one._ A small part of her would snidely comment from time to time, but she stifled it with a vengeance. No, she thought. Harry would never feel that way. Harry was a good friend, and it was chance that she wasn't underwater that day.

After her terrible fourth year she thought little of the incident, chalking it up to her unrealistic expectations of people and perhaps a bit of childishness. Soon, she found comfort in the arms of Ron, the man she loved. For all intents and purposes, she had forgotten about it all. That is, up until she died.

The realisation that she had died six times bore more weight on her shoulders than the fact that she was Harry's soul mate. The latter could be dealt with later, but the former was in the past, and one that was gnawing at her. Six times? She had died _six_ times. That was more than enough to give anyone pause. Hermione had died six times and she could only remember one, when she jumped in front of Harry as the beam of green threatened to overpower him.

"Hermione?" she heard the familiar tones of her mother.

She snapped back into reality, finding herself in front of a large pie, a fork in hand with a slice hovering just close to her mouth. She blinked, then stared at the faces of the two people she thought she would never see again.

"Mum." She said, her head shooting to the left. "Dad."

The two blinked, staring at her as if she had gone mad.

"Yes dear?" her mother asked tentatively. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had always felt like their child wasn't all there, far too entrenched in her extremely intelligent mind to notice things around her although it was the first time they had seen her mentally wander off while in the middle of a meal. Some of it was answered by the realisation that she was, indeed, different, being a witch, but that left them with more questions than answers.

Hermione's senses were then assaulted with the familiar smells of her home, the kitchen, the pie in front of her, her father's cologne, Crookshanks. She was torn between the pie and her parents, however, ultimately choosing the former, and then immediately jumping up and hugging her father and mother in equal measure while chewing on the pie. The best pie she had had in years.

"Mum! Oh Dad!" She was almost drawn away by the emotion of it all, but kept her wits about her enough to not spill what was either a very real daydream or a reality she had never hoped could happen.

* * *

If scruffiness were to be punishable by law, then the residents of Privet Drive would have been career executioners and jailers due to their complete contempt of the idea of scruff in their neighbourhood. The hottest summer day by far would not have given them any other pursuit as lawn-mowing and car-washing was illegal and so they tempted non-existent breezes and judging people with upturned noses.

Harry had always had a bad feeling whenever they did that.

And yet, here he was, right under the flowerbed, waiting for the news to go on while on fours. He grunted then walked over to the yellowing lawn. "Mundungus, I know you're out there." He said, hearing a small gasp of breath by the side of the fence. "Don't you go out and disapparate for some stolen cauldrons or I swear I will hunt _you_ down before Voldemort does."

Harry had pushed all thoughts of his erstwhile reincarnation aside, a part of him was drawn more to the action of the next few moments and while he had seen many things in his life, he had never thought of reincarnation as one of them. Still, magic was strange. And if it could bring a broomstick – a flying broomstick – to him with a wave of his wand and a terse spell, then it could possibly bring him back to life.

"Dung." He towered over the invisible man, hoping that he was in the right place. Fletcher had still not removed the charm. "I'm going out and you had better be around to protect me or I'm telling Dumbledore about everything you've stolen." He threatened. An empty one, of course, but Mundungus would not know that. Or so he hoped.

"A'right. A'right." Mundungus was just about right where Harry found him, a bit to the left, however.

"Whad'ya want?" Dung had been dozing merrily and had dreamt of cauldrons before Harry had woken up him, the thought of buying them did not even entertain itself in his mind up until the boy told him about it.

"I want you to stun the cat underneath the car, and then I want you to take me to Diagon Alley." Harry looked at him evenly.

Mundungus laughed. "No way. Dumbledore's order were for ye t'stay 'ere." He said, crossing his arms to give himself a semblance of authority.

Harry shook his head. "I'll give you twenty galleons if you do it. Another twenty if you keep quiet about it. I'll add another ten if you can get me right in front of Gringotts."

Dung could only imagine what he would do with a fifty galleons and he had started off dreaming before Harry cleared his throat, waiting for an answer. Casting a quick stunner on the cat was enough of it as he held onto Harry's arm and apparated right in front of Gringotts, in clear violation of the wizarding rule against apparating inside Diagon Alley. Most people had to use the public access transports and most did. Dung, however, was not most people and would pay the three knut fine with ease once he got his money.

Harry, for his part, was surprised at the sudden willingness of Dung. It was, by far, the most surprising thing to happen to him, for things to go his way for once. He looked at his companion and nodded, moving towards the interior of Gringotts where the austere goblins held their trade. Harry moved with purpose towards one of the goblins, who looked up, blinked then looked back down. By far the most emotion Dung or Harry had ever seen in a goblin.

"Mr. Potter. I'm assuming that you are here regarding your finances?" the goblin said tonelessly, continuing to write on the tome in front of him.

"Yes. But I will need to withdraw fifty galleons first." Harry said, swallowing. He had never done anything so formal before and wished that someone was there to help him. However, his badly-conceived plan was only accessorised by Dung Fletcher, a man Harry wouldn't trust with a false knut.

"Of course." The goblin said, pulling out a voucher and handing it to Harry. "Please sign here." He said, Harry did so with his wand and the goblin nodded, pulling out a small sack of coins.

Harry handed it to Dung, who quickly opened it and counted.

"There's another five in it for you if you tell no one about this." He told him quietly. Dung nodded with sheer delight, before being dismissed by the Boy-Who-Gave-Him-Fifty-Galleons.

Harry turned to the goblin who nodded. "Please enter our accounts section. A supervisor will meet you there." The creature pointed to the door behind him guarded by two human wizards in Gringotts robes.

Moving towards the door, Harry only now realised that he was in Gringotts, not in the playground where he was supposed to be, fending off a dementor attack. He figured that Dudley was safe without him to be followed by the creatures, something he should have done back then. Unfortunately, he never thought of that, the recently departed Mr. Fletcher having ruined his plans for the evening in the past.

The accounts section was a massive hallway with rooms to the right and left. In the centre of it was a small, raised platform that was empty. The circular platform bisected the entire room twice, giving it four hallways.

A supervisor was indeed through the door when Harry stepped in. "Hello, Mr. Potter." The goblin said, giving a toothy smile. "We have been expecting you. Please, right this way." The goblin quickly turned and moved through the wide corridor, stopping just before the empty space in the middle to a room that said "Latchclaw".

After being ushered in, Harry was not surprised to find yet another goblin with a book in front of him, reading and writing before looking up at him. The smile it gave was extremely goblin-like. The voice, however, was not.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter." It said in one of the poshest accents Harry had ever heard from Wizard, Muggle, or Goblin. "My name is Latchclaw, your account manager." Harry could never tell if the goblin was old or young. There didn't seem to be any indication of white hair, but that did not mean that it was middle-aged. Slowly, Harry moved towards the desk, accepting his account manager's extended hand.

"Good. Please. Take a seat." The goblin did so as well, looking at him with hands steepled. "Now I understand that you would like to discuss your finances, mm? Where would you like to begin?"

"Well…" Harry mumbled. "From the beginning, actually. I'm not even sure how much money I have. But I think I'd like to take control of my finances from here on out." One of the reasons, he remembered, that they had a hard time on the run was the lack of money from all three of them. Harry thought that now, in hindsight, if it were to happen again, they would be able to talk or bribe their way out of any situation. And possibly get something for his current state of scruffiness.

"Ah." The goblin smiled, the steepled hands moving in delight. "Yes. Of course. I can get you the figures now." He turned to his book and started reciting off Harry's bank statement.

"Alright. Potter, H. Here we go. Harry Potter, two existing vaults. The first being the Harry Potter Trust Fund set up by James Potter on your birthday, and the Potter Family Vault." The goblin recited. "The first has the amount of 12251 galleons, most recent withdrawal a few minutes ago. The next is the Potter Family Vault, only to be claimed by the head of the Potter Family line, in this case yourself worth 241020 galleons, several appraised artifacts and works of art valued and insured at 10000 - 15000 galleons each."

"Current liabilities include Gryffin's Rest, the Potter family house in South Kensington and Gringotts Bank for monetary retainer purposes. Upkeep of Gryffin's Rest is valued at 100 galleons per year and Gringotts Bank charges 25 galleons per financial year for vault upkeep and goblin account wages." He looked up at the last bit, clearly meaning himself.

"Wow." Harry swallowed. He had thought that he had money, but he had never figured that the money was simply a part of a trust fund, much less a large trust fund and an even larger bank account. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, then closed it again. His plan had dried up at this stage and he was, for all intents and purposes, winging it.

The goblin waited patiently for him to recover and only on the third try did it begin the conversation. "We have tried to send you many letters regarding this, however, Professor Albus Dumbledore, as executor to the Potter Family Will requested that all letters be forwarded to him due to your current…" the smile widened at this, showing rows of fangs. "…living arrangements."

It was reasonable, Harry thought as he closed his mouth yet again. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be all over the money in a heartbeat if they knew. Still, he felt that Dumbledore was keeping even this away from him, unfair as the thought was.

Harry nodded. "Alright. Um. Well… I just…" he petered off again, unable to continue. He had absolutely zero experience in banking or even money for that matter and wouldn't know what to do with it. Only after a few moments did he begin once more.

"Can I have some of the money?"

It took much for any wizard to make a goblin laugh, but the sheer awkwardness of the boy with the issue made Latchclaw guffaw, before regaining control. "I apologise, Mister Potter. But of course! Would you like to have them in galleons or perhaps a money control order?" he asked, Harry looking blankly at him.

"A money control order or MCO is much like a muggle credit card. We will key in your signature to your trust fund, all you have to do is sign a bank slip from the establishment you wish to buy from and we shall credit them with the money." Latchclaw explained.

"MCO…" Harry said thoughtfully, thinking about that option and wondering if it would make him traceable.

"A terrible acronym, I know. But I believe we are still working on branding it. You can have your wand sign for you, of course. We know the specifics of your wand and the encypted magical code will be known only to us if you have…" Harry listened for the well-known pause. "Security concerns." The goblin's smile was growing more now.

"Oh. Alright. And may I have a muggle equivalent credit card for that too, please?" Harry asked, wondering if it was time to get new muggle clothing. The robes would have made him too much of an eyesore in muggle public. As if his scar didn't cause him enough problems in the wizarding sphere.

"Of course, Mr. Potter." The goblin wrote on the book and once again pulled out something from the drawer beneath his desk. "Here it is, Mr. Potter. All we need now if a sample from your wand." He placed the credit card – _Barclays, _Harry thought – and a piece of parchment.

"I'm still underage." Harry told the goblin after taking the card and placing it in his pocket, clearly not wanting a repeat of the last time he had a run-in with the Ministry.

"It's alright, Mr. Potter. This isn't magic, per se, but really just a pulse of your passive magic. It will not register with the Improper Use of Magic Office." Latchclaw reassured him and Harry nodded, pulling out his wand from his pocket and feeling a small pulse of the magic leave his body, his signature suddenly printed on the sample card, the goblin taking it and reviewing the paper.

"Perfect. Will there be anything else?" Latchclaw asked his client. His client who had just earned him 50 galleons in commissions on processing fees.

"Is there a way for you to apparate me to another place? I can't do that yet either." Winging it didn't seem like such a bad idea, Harry thought. Things were going well.

"Yes, of course. We shall have someone bring you to whatever destination you wish." The Goblin nodded, writing once again on the book before looking up.

Their business concluded, an extremely happy goblin sent Harry off to the centre of the raised platform, telling him that a wizard would be accompanying him shortly. It did not take long, however, and Harry saw a familiar face from one of the corridors.

"Bill!" Harry exclaimed and said Weasley was taken aback at the realisation of who he had to ferry.

"Harry! Hey mate, how are you? What are you doing here?" the Gringotts Employee and Ron's older brother greeted him, a firm handshake following.

"I needed to do business and I couldn't disapparate back to Privet Drive." Harry said, slightly vaguely.

"Oh? Is that so?" Bill asked, then in a softer voice whispered. "Do they know you're here? Dumbledore and the others?"

Harry shook his head, drawing closer to Bill. "No, and I'd appreciate it if they didn't hear it from you." He said and Bill nodded.

"Out for fresh air then? Picked a pretty weird place for air, though. So, where do you want to go?" Bill said good-naturedly albeit guarded, looking around at the enclosed areas and sniffing the parchment in the air.

"Just needed to sort some things out." Harry explained before thinking about Bill's question.

"I guess… a change of clothes?" he looked at Bill expectantly, wondering if he knew where to buy muggle clothing.

"Robes or Trousers?" Bill asked, with Harry answering for the latter.

"Harrods." The redhead said immediately, tapping his wand at his Gringotts robes and changing his attire to a more muggle one of a shirt and some jeans.

"Right." Harry agreed, having gone there once as Aunt Petunia's glorified manservant, carrying the miles upon miles of textiles needed to outfit Dudley.

"You ready, mate?" Bill asked, an arm around Harry's, who nodded. The two disappeared from the bank with a crack.

It took three hours, a few mishaps, and several guffaws of laughter from both Harry and Bill for them to finish clothes shopping. It was, for two men who were generally clueless of clothes, a difficult thing made more difficult by the fact that they had found so many things to kill time. Records, and muggle gadgets that seemed so surreal to those in the wizarding world. Harry took time to explain to Bill the few things he did know, although they were still both stumped on the idea of the hoover. Harry never had the luxury of it during his time with the Dursleys and Bill was more wizard than Harry had ever seen him.

"Cleaning spell could do what all these could." Bill said as they passed the appliances section, his voice low enough to not break any international statutes of wizarding secrecy.

"The muggles sure know how to build things, though." Harry said, catching himself. The muggles. How strange for him to be so different from the rest of them. In a world where Harry never fit in, it was so easy to let go of the things that he had once thought was normal.

"Yeah." Bill agreed, looking at Harry now dressed in a more respectable pair of trousers and a gryffindor red shirt that matched his hair. "You have to go somewhere else, mate?" he had been tasked with ferrying Harry to and fro, mostly for Gringotts but his ties to the Order compelled him to do the same. Besides, Harry couldn't use magic yet and he was a pretty good curse breaker. He was also glad to spend time with his youngest brother's best friend. Harry seemed like a good sort.

"Just…" Harry sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to go back to Privet Drive." He admitted. He never bothered calling the place home. His memories of his "seventh year" where he was sifting through all of Sirius' things made Grimmauld Place more at home than anywhere else.

"I heard how they've been treating you there, mate. Ron says it's worse than having a Weasley reunion and that sounds like the worst thing I've had." Bill empathised. An unconscious wince at the thought of having Charlie and the rest at home all at the same time. He would rather go through an ancient Egyptian curse than that.

"Yeah... But I guess I have to. Get the ball rolling and all." Harry finally said, looking at Bill and nodding. There would be many things he needed to do, now that he had proven without a shadow of a doubt that he really was back in the past, with a chance to fix it. Sirius' death would never happen, Harry thought as his heart swelled at the idea. Sirius was a good man who didn't deserve his death. Harry would make sure it didn't happen.

Bill almost asked what Harry meant by getting the ball rolling, but decided not to say anything. He took Harry to a small hallway in Harrods, a surprisingly empty one and tucked his arm around his. "Alright then. Let's go." Bill said, looking at Harry to make sure he was ready, the crack at Harrods was noticed only for the briefest of seconds before every muggle there went about their way again.

Harry had been dropped off by Bill, who was then greeted by a very happy Dung Fletcher, having returned to his post to make sure that no one saw what had happened to the cat. Bill and Dung exchanged questioning looks but allowed Harry in the safest place in the wizarding world for him, Bill leaving just a few moments after Harry sneaked in through the back door.

"Where have you been, boy?" Uncle Vernon's growl would have scared Harry a long time ago, but after all that he had gone through felt the notion funny, at best.

"Went out." Harry said, the shopping bags from Harrods not gone unnoticed by the Dursleys.

"And where'd you get the money for that? Stealing?" Aunt Petunia asked, the thought scandalised her but she believed that Harry was capable of anything, as his father was.

"No, it's my money. Leave me alone." Harry went directly up the stairs into the secondary bedroom of Dudley Dursley, ignoring Vernon's shouts of him to return. None of them would dare touch him, lest he did the freak thing he always did.

In his room, Harry let out an exhalation of relief, the one sanctuary he had from the Dursleys. Hedwig, however, reminded him that there was a world out there that needed saving, a roll of parchment on her leg told Harry everything.

Putting down the bags, he walked over to her and smiled. "Hey there, girl. I missed you." He picked the large snowy owl up and proceeded to hug the life out of it, only a panicked nip at his ear saved Hedwig from what it probably thought as death by squeezing.

Harry smiled, then laughed, for the first time. Hedwig was back. And that was, perhaps, the only proof he ever needed that he had jumped back into the past. Unrolling the parchment, he recognised Hermione's hasty scrawl. It was a letter that made Harry smile for more than one reason and the parchment said something that only a Hermione from the future would write.

_Please let it be true._

_-Hermione_

He pulled out some parchment and wrote a reply.

_Yes. It is. We have to meet. Gringotts at 9. – Harry_

was all he wrote, looking at it with the eye of one who was about to send a letter to someone very special. Was it enough? Did it mean something else? It didn't, he decided, and placed the parchment on the side. He pulled out three more and wrote several other letters.

He decided to write to Sirius first although the words did not flow as easy as he thought it would. He had been under the impression that Sirius was dead for almost two years and now to know that he wasn't made him want to say everything to him. But he couldn't, he knew that, remembering what his mother said. The thought of Lily, however, made writing to Sirius Black much easier.

_Padfoot,_

_We need to meet. It is very important. Meet me at Gringotts tomorrow at 10._

_Your godson,_

_Harry._

_P.S. Bring Moony._

_P.P.S. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._

He looked at it again, a small plan developing in his mind, although he would need Hermione's help with it too. He realised that she wasn't the smartest witch of their generation for nothing a long time ago and planning was, for all intents and purposes, her forte. He still wondered, sometimes, why she wasn't in Ravenclaw with all the smart ones, or Slytherin, with all the cunning ones. He was glad, however, that she was in Gryffindor. And that she was his friend. If nothing else.

The pang of sadness washed over him before he pushed it away, there was another note that needed writing. This one, however, was simpler than the last.

_S,_

_Oil, water, and lillies. Gringotts, 9AM._

_P._

He had decided to use only their last initials for Severus, who was already in enough danger without Hedwig being intercepted and his cover being blown. He hastily added something else when a plan dawned on him and he tied the letters to Hedwig's legs.

"Be careful with Snape, girl." Harry said, the owl giving a nonchalant bark as if to say that she would be fine. "Only give it to him when he's alone. Hopefully he'll be in Hogwarts but you would know better." Hedwig cooed, then waited expectantly, Harry then gave her a quick bite of bacon before she left and young Potter could only watch the snowy owl go. "I missed that." He said with a sigh, looking at the clothes that he had purchased. He never really thought about why he wanted new clothes, although he had a sinking feeling that he did so because he knew he would be meeting Hermione the next day.

"Come on, Harry." He grabbed fistfuls of hair and sat on his lumpy bed. "Get a bloody grip." He sighed. _She doesn't love you. And that's okay._ He repeated the mantra that he had said to himself a long time ago. _As long as she's alive and happy that's all that matters._

But was it? Harry was heartened to know that they were soul mates, but he knew that it changed little in the grand scheme of things. Hermione was still very much in love with Ron for all he knew and she was probably thinking of plans to meet with him. Of course, in this timeline they weren't together just yet. But with Hermione running things, they would eventually. Harry believed. Hermione could get what she wanted if she truly put her mind to it.

Lying in bed, he looked up at the ceiling thinking of her, the only thing he could. In the quiet moments, he would indulge himself with thoughts of her. And with them being given another chance at saving the world, this might just be his last quiet moment in a long time.


	3. Trust Issues

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews. I've been having a hard time writing the last part of this chapter so forgive me if it doesn't conform to your standards. It is, however, logical. At least to me, that Harry and Hermione would react in the ways that they did.

This fic is still Harmony, I swear.

**Disclaimer: **The usual.

* * *

Harry paced for the rest of the evening, ignoring calls from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to come down and help out with the chores. He knew now that he owed them nothing and wanted to keep it that way. They would never dare anger him out of the fear that they felt over his "freakishness" and he then decided that making them distant from him was possibly the best way to ensure their safety now that Voldemort was back. From what Harry knew, the Noseless One was still recuperating from his recent return and erstwhile murder of Cedric, the memory of the latter brought a pang of anger. He wished, in a way, that he could save everyone, but the recent events of the last timeline was enough proof that he couldn't. Still, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Snape, and the rest would live. As far as he was concerned, that was enough. He would save the most people he could.

Was he spiteful? Perhaps. It was unfair to have a boy know only suffering as a child and death as a teenager and it had warped his psyche enough to give him a slight protective complex. The idea of them having lost the last time took a toll on Harry. He had believed that he could have won that duel with Voldemort, he really did. And yet he lost. As ambivalent he was to the idea, a part of him still smarted over being beaten. He had thought that they only had one chance at keeping themselves alive, and perhaps now it truly was just one chance. But Harry wanted to make it count. If not for his sake then those that he cared about.

A sudden bark broke his thoughts – and pacing – and Hedwig, clearly tired from her 8 hour journey swooped in with much less grace than she normally did, quickly consuming water and rashers of bacon in equal measure, a leg raised with two letters, tied to her for Harry's perusal.

The first was quickly removed, and Harry read the one with Hermione's writing on it first. A giddy feeling in his chest that he forced himself to quell.

_Harry,_

_Thank Merlin! I'm so glad this is real. I thought it was just a dream. I need to talk to you earlier than that. It is urgent. Can we meet at 7AM? I'm thinking you've already talked to the three your mum told us about so we should meet earlier to make sure we have our story straight, don't you think? Oh Harry I'm so glad. I ate waffles today, I hadn't in a long time. Anyway, we should meet up before they do. Did you tell Snape to make Polyjuice Potions for the both of us? I'll get hairs from my Mum and Dad so that we can use that. It's best if we use people that they don't know._

_Harry I'm so glad we're both alive, I can't wait to meet you tomorrow._

_-Hermione_

Harry Potter slapped his palm on his head at Hermione's question on Polyjuice Potions. He didn't. And he thought he had thought of everything.

_Smartest witch of her generation indeed._

Harry quickly pondered on sending Snape another letter but couldn't risk it. They would just have to wing it or perhaps buy some from the apothecaries in Diagon Alley. On the off-chance that Snape had a secret potions dungeon other than Hogwarts which Harry figured he did. Still, getting Snape to cooperate while in the same room as the two Marauders was going to be a challenge. Although the biggest problem was talking to Hermione after everything. They never had a chance to flush all the kinks of their, er, reincarnations especially his mother's problematic reveal of the undying love he felt for his best friend's girlfriend.

He didn't really mean to, and he was so content with just letting things play their course. He would have grown distant from them, perhaps blame the trauma. He remembered the muggles talking about it on the telly. They called it Gulf War Syndrome. Well, in the Wizarding World, he would have chalked it up to Second Wizarding War syndrome. The magical form of the illness.

Of course, none of that was going to work now. And he had to save the Wizarding World first before he could attribute some sort of sickness to it. And it wouldn't have been so hard to get away from them. Hermione, at first, would have nagged him about it. Possibly enter his future house uninvited and he would have to angrily force her away. And then she would have given up, left him alone, and he could have moved on from there.

It was all in theory, Harry knew. But had it worked – and in his mind, it did, he felt it would have been better for everyone.

Hedwig's quick bark brought him back to reality, the reality that he hadn't done much of anything yet. "Merlin." He muttered, then reread the note. Earlier sounded good. They would have to get their story straight. Not to mention set things up for Remus and Sirius.

He sat on his bed, thinking about a reply, like a boy knocked head over heels at receiving a note from his crush, even if the note was about one's homework for the next day. It was an innocent note, but a note nonetheless, and Harry was over the moon for it.

_Good bloody Merlin, Potter. Keep it together. It's just Beaver face._ Malfoy's voice spoke in his head.

_Shut up, Malfoy._ He retorted, knowing he could do better but wasn't in the mood for thinking. He picked up a quill and started writing a reply, still ignoring the other letter attached to Hedwig.

_Dear Hermione,_

_7AM sounds good. I'll be there early so just tell one of the goblins that Mr. Potter is waiting for you. Hopefully I can rent one of their rooms with all the protections in them so we can get started. I didn't tell Snape to make Polyjuice and I don't have the ingredients to make it. Hopefully he can find us some when we tell him._

_I'm glad too, Hermione._

He paused now, wanting to say "Love, Harry" but was hesitant to do so. He decided to end it the way she did, a quick dash and his name. Quickly tying the letter, he looked up from the desk he had unconsciously sat in front of to see a rather annoyed owl who had been barking several times to make him notice the _other_ note.

"Sorry, girl." He said apologetically, tying his reply on her leg and then untying the other. It was, as expected, from Sirius.

_Harry,_

_What's going on? Are you alright? This is not the time to be playing pranks or pulling off mischief, young man. There is too much at stake and we can't have you gallivanting around Diagon Alley. Merlin, what if You-Know-Who's people are around there? Agh. Fine. I know nothing I say will stop you. You sound like you've decided on this. I'll be there with Moony but I swear, Harry James Potter, if you get into trouble I will ground you until you're bloody 17._

_Your __godfather__,_

_Sirius Black_

Harry could not help but feel amused at Sirius underlining the godfather part, as if to exert control over him. He could, of course. Harry felt like he couldn't say no to people in authority these days, what with him always saying yes or trying to say no, but failing miserably. But he knew that he would have to start somewhere. There was a limitation to their good intentions and for once in his life, Harry actually knew better than they did. No, this time, he was the adult. Three years older. Sort of.

Sending Hermione's letter off, he did not expect a reply, nor did he want to reply to Sirius just yet. He needed Hermione to properly explain everything to them. He needed Hermione for a lot of things, really.

_Focus, Potter._

The dotty Malfoy voice in his head reminded him. It was much nicer than Malfoy, he knew that much. But the snide little Slytherin was three years younger now, and was by no means a trusted ally. Now or then.

Lying on his bed, he felt the tiredness wash away from him. He debated on a shower, but decided against it. Tomorrow, yes. And with that thought, he fell asleep.

"Mum, I need to go to a friend's today." Hermione said that morning at six, when they normally had breakfast. She had, like yesterday, been overeating, which posed many questions that her mother and father couldn't ask her. A phase, they told themselves that night as they readied for bed. She had slept for most of the day but slept some more that night, only twice did they hear the now normal bark of the snowy owl that was Hermione's friend's definition of a phone.

"Alright, dear. What time? Do you need me or your father to drop you off?" Said her mother, who looked curiously at her daughter, still shoving food in her mouth as if she had not eaten a month's worth of it yesterday. She wanted to ask Hermione if she was even slightly worried about her figure but she didn't seem to be, nor did Mrs. Granger think that she should. Hermione was a smart girl and perhaps this was simply a growth spurt.

Mr. Granger, however, looked up curiously at his beloved daughter, going to a "friend's" was practically code for most fathers to panic. A "friend" could be more than a friend, he knew. But, after all, even the smartest girls – and his daughter was smart indeed – could become foolish in the presence of boys. After all, that was how he got the now-Mrs. Granger, wasn't it? A bit of awkwardness, some head scratching, several flowers and dates in the University. It was practically a classic by now. His father had done it too, he remembered the old man telling him. And so he was terrified for his Hermione, although he knew saying anything right now was tantamount to a father-daughter relationship disaster, something that he wanted to keep at bay for as long as possible. And so, with a look at his beloved wife for guidance, who nodded at him, he remained quiet on the issue and continued reading the paper.

"Heat wave's finally about to break, they say." Was all he said, and his daughter gave a grunt of approval at the news, far too focused on the sugar-free cereal that she was eating. It was then that he snapped, sitting up and putting his paper down.

"Hermione?" he said tentatively, the spoon she was holding halted midway between the bowl and her still chewing mouth. "Are you alright, dear? You seem, er, lively." He remembered just how gloomy she had been since the end of term. A boy had died in their school. Some tournament that had gone wrong. There was more to it, they knew, but it was heartbreaking to see their flesh and blood distraught over it.

"Oh?" asked distraught daughter, who resumed eating. "Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" she said in between the last spoonful of breakfast food, downing the milk in the bowl in a way only a marooned man could possibly imitate.

"Well, yes." Mr. Granger allowed, finding himself defeated even before the first salvo. Yes. That was a good thing.

"Alright. I'll just brush my teeth and I'll be off." Hermione said, years of dental hygiene so ingrained in her that even the sheer excitement of seeing Harry – a Harry that remembered everything – would wait for a quick brush. "I'll take the Knight Bus, the Wizarding Bus." She wiped her lips and stood, half skipping over to her father.

"Dad, I swear, sometimes you worry too much." She said and kissed Mr. Granger's cheek, skipping all the way to her mother and kissing her as well. "I love you both." She said and went on her merry way.

Mrs. Granger could only look at her husband's incredulous face. "She's your daughter, you know. She can pick up on things. Well, most of the time." She said with a small giggle.

"And she's yours." Mr. Granger responded sullenly, returning to his paper. "Which means she can hide things rather well."

Was Harry early? Possibly. But he needed to be, if they were to do this properly. At 6 in the morning he was out of the house before Uncle Vernon or even Aunt Petunia awoke. He had cleaned himself up at 5 in the morning, thankful that the summer heat was enough even before the sun rose to warrant a cold bath. He put on his best shirt, coincidentally his newest shirt, and trousers before wrapping the Invisibility Cloak around himself.

"Bill?" he said once he was outside the premises, the curse breaker appeared immediately, having volunteered himself for the graveyard shift the night before.

"Hey mate. You mind telling me what this is about?" Harry had asked him to fill in that spot for some reason.

"I need to get to Gringotts. D'you think it's possible to rent the conference room? One with the anti-listening charms?" Harry said, head peeking out of the cloak.

Bill whistled. "Yeah. Sure, I guess, if you've got the galleons for it." He knew that Harry had the galleons for it. However, his loyalty to Ron's best mate could only take him so far. "But I really gotta know what you're planning, Harry. I'm still a part of the Order and you're a good bloke and I really don't want to do anything, er, against that." He was concerned, genuinely so and Harry felt grateful.

"I arranged a meeting with Hermione and Sirius, and Remus, and someone else. I needed to speak to them privately." Harry said seriously, not even daring to lie save for being vague.

"And Ron?" Bill's first thought was of his brother. It was strange that he wasn't a part of this, as the three seemed inseparable.

"Hermione and I… need some time before telling him." Harry admitted, looking apologetically at Bill.

For his part, Bill nodded. "Alright, mate. I guess you're just as safe in Gringotts with Sirius and Remus as you are here. But Merlin…" he groaned. "Can't you at least tell me what is going on with you? I can't just keep running around like this." He said with a side of frustration.

"I'm sorry, Bill. And I promise you I can as soon as I'm able to. You'll be the first to know." Harry promised and Bill nodded.

"I'm holding you to that, Harry. C'mon. Keep your Invisibility Cloak on. I need to pop you to the office then be back here in time for the next shift. I'll make the necessary arrangements in Gringotts." Bill said, clasping Harry's half-visible arm before popping out.

**Gringotts, 6:30AM**

Harry and Bill moved quickly towards Latchclaw's office, the goblin not looking tired at all as he found one of the Gringotts Curse Breakers with the floating head of his most lucrative account.

"Mr. Potter." The wizened old goblin – Harry was still assuming that Latchclaw was old. But he didn't seem to be surprised by a lot of things, so he assumed he was correct – greeted, looking questioningly at Bill.

"Hello, Latchclaw." Bill said, bowing as was custom in Goblin society. Latchclaw nodded his head in return. He always liked the Weasley boy. Good head on his shoulders. For a wizard, at least.

"Hello, Latchclaw." Harry was just about to bow before Bill stopped him.

"Don't, Harry. I can do that because we're both employees but if you do that, you'll be treating him as a superior, which is insulting." Bill muttered and Harry looked at him incredulously.

Latchclaw cleared his throat, a small smile creasing the smooth features. "We are equals, Mr. Potter, as I safekeep your finances. If I were to be considered your superior, then why must I take care of _your_ finances?" The goblin steepled his fingers and Harry took a moment to process the data.

"Oh." The dismembered head said, nodding slowly. He didn't understand it all, but he did get the "no-bowing-to-goblins" bit.

"However, I appreciate you learning our customs willingly." His grin grew wider at that, and Harry nodded.

"That's good, at least." He muttered under his breath and removed his Invisiblity cloak. "I'd like to discuss renting one of your rooms." He said and looked at Bill.

"Good luck, mate." Bill whispered before bowing wordlessly once more to Latchclaw who nodded his head in return.

"Mr. Potter, that is a, er, strange request." Latchclaw admitted, flipping a page from his large tome. "But it can be arranged. May I ask you will do with the meeting room?"

Harry, who was incapable of telling the truth – and was hard-pressed with lying thought of his answer slowly.

"Well, for a meeting." He answered lamely and Latchclaw smiled.

"You sound like a goblin with a lot of secrets, Mr. Potter." Harry was unsure if this was a complement or an insult.

"You mean there are goblins who don't?" Harry responded, remembering his previous dealings with Latchclaw's kin.

This earned him a laugh, however and the banker nodded. "Indeed, Mr. Potter." Was all he could say before barking another laugh.

"Alright then, Mr. Potter. We can have Meeting Room A available at 7AM. Five galleons an hour. Will you be needing anything in the room?" the banker asked, quill tentatively over his tome.

"Food, mostly. For breakfast and lunch. Some sweets too, and juice. Also Firewhiskey and tea." Harry thought that would be enough and Latchclaw nodded approvingly.

"There will be plates there for your convenience, then." The goblin said, writing it all down before looking back up again. "We will need the names of your guests, Mr. Potter. The bank shall provide short-range portkeys for them as it ensures the bank's safety and yours." He finished.

Harry nodded. It made sense to him. There would be less people walking around Gringotts' inner offices and Harry would make sure it was that person who popped into the secure meeting room with him.

"Alright. But… no one would know, right?" Harry was still slightly unsure of Goblins. They had a bad reputation after all.

Latchclaw, however, looked scandalised. "Mr. Potter. I assure you that I take banker-client confidentiality very seriously." He said in a barely contained voice. How _dare_ his client doubt his steadfastness?

"Alright. Alright. Sorry. I just… I don't know much about goblins." He admitted. "Or the banking system. Or Gringotts, for that matter." He looked at the office and then shrugged at the goblin, who sighed.

"Yes. And you won't until Hogwarts replaces that ghastly History of Magic professor of yours." The goblin muttered. Professor Binns was notorious even outside the castle walls.

"Ghostly." Harry corrected him, a small smile creeping from the side of his face. "You meant ghostly."

A small silence followed the correction and Latchclaw grinned in return. "Yes. Yes I suppose ghostly is better."

The banker signalled for another supervisor to take Harry directly to the meeting room after Harry wrote down the participants of his so-called meeting.

"You will be notified beforehand of your guests arriving on the premises, Mr. Potter. The room is ready for you, and the food is served." Harry was told before being escorted out of his banker's office.

Harry's mouth watered as the subtle aromas of pie and fresh food assaulted him, the supervisor unnoticed as it bowed out and closed the door behind him. With his knowledge of spells intact, Harry could feel the wards and magical safeguards of the room from the basic soundproofing charm to the more complex anti-apparition and permission runes subtly etched into the wood. Still, that was secondary to the food.

Walking over to the tray, he filled a plate with as much food as he could before sitting on the long table with its comfortable chairs, much like muggle ones with the rollers.

Delicious. Harry judged, shovelling morsels in his mouth as fast as he could. Having been so used to hunger, both from his adventure with Ron and Hermione in the woods to Harry's previous life of starvation with the Dursleys, he had all but forgotten it until it was present. And then the hunger sank and he could only nod and grunt at the terse message from the small magical speakerphone that Ms. Granger was there. A decision that he would regret in the next few seconds.

The small pop of the Portkey in Hermione's hand heralded her arrival at Meeting Room A, Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley, London. A slight bout of wooziness made her remember why she was here in the first place.

The quick Lumos spell was not noticed by the Improper Use of Magic Office – much like how it wasn't noticed when Harry called the Knight Bus in their third year – and Hermione had found herself on the bus, with a normal looking young lad and three blind witches who were arguing over a ball of thread. She raised her brow at the boy but found herself at home with the witches. Realising that perhaps she was growing more accustomed to the traditions of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A thought that bothered her more than she knew.

The trip to Diagon Alley was fast, neck-breaking even, and the designated Diagon Alley bus stop was reached before she could even get her bearings.

Alighting, she moved with purpose towards Gringotts, unsure of what she would find there. A quick scan of the external of the building showed no signs of Harry and she moved to the interior of Gringotts, remembering her last sojourn into the bank's depths. A shiver crept down her spine at the memory of being Bellatrix Lestrange again, her throat immediately drying out at it.

Looking for Harry, however, proved futile, and she was about to leave the building when a goblin came up to her, nodding.

"Ms. Hermione Granger?" the goblin asked and Hermione nodded. "We have been waiting for you. Please take this."

Hermione felt a coin in her hand as she felt the whole world collapse into itself, before expanding outward into the Meeting Room. She wobbled slightly at the feeling of vertigo and looked around, seeing Harry wolfing down what seemed to be the last bit of pie from his plate, his mouth too full to talk.

"Harry!" she forced herself to regain balance and rushed towards the now-14 year old boy, his glasses askew from the wanton eating that she too had been doing. Hugging him tight, he could feel him gag at the pressure of her embrace and released him slightly, allowing an arm to reach for a glass of pumpkin juice being downed to push the food in.

_Bloody smooth, Potter._ Harry's Malfoy-voice thought snidely before he pushed it away, taking a deep breath before angling himself towards Hermione and hugging her tight in return.

"Hermione." He replied, as if he had not seen her in years. A longing in his chest soothed by her mere presence. For a long minute they held each other in the friendly embrace.

"Oh Harry. This is real, isn't it?" she was the first to speak, a soft sob from her lips with the weight of all that was collapsed upon her.

"Yes. Yes it is, Hermione." He replied, his mind adding _and you are too._

They stayed there for another few minutes, feeling like they had all the time in the world.

Finally, it was Hermione who broke off the hug, Harry was more than content to spend his twilight years just holding her, smelling the toothpaste from her lips, the feel of her hair, and the warmth of her body. She, on the other hand, was far too excited – and far less in love with Harry – to do so.

"Oh Harry, I'm so glad this is real. I saw my parents and I had to stop myself from crying and gushing out. Oh, I never thought I'd see them again." She said, holding his hand.

_Great Merlin, just kill me now._ Harry-voice in Harry's head said as he wished he could faint from her touch. What had happened? He would ask himself later, when he was not nearly as lightheaded as he was now. _Just because your mother spilled your secret about being so hopelessly in love with your best friend, you suddenly feel like a giddy schoolboy around her?_ The voice reprimanded.

_Fine! Sure. Alright. Her saying it and you admitting it made it all the more real._ The voice allowed. _But that doesn't mean that you have to go turning like a poxy beet when she touches you. You know how she is! Touchy._ _S'all there is to it._

_Flirty, you mean._ The Malfoy-voice said, waggling its non-existent eyebrows.

_Don't you talk about Hermione like that you slimy git. Why are you in my head anyway?_

_Because let's face it, Potter. I'm the only one that can keep you in line and focused. It was never Weasel or Granger. That's why you—_

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione was genuinely concerned that Harry had spent the last five minutes just staring at her. She had been telling him about what had happened when she returned to the land of the living, talking about her mother's cooking. Mostly unimportant things, but she felt it important.

"Huh? Wha?" Harry looked up, unfocused at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"It's not important. Not really." Hermione replied, remembering suddenly that Harry's domestic life was a far cry from hers. He had probably been persecuted by the Dursleys again, not a good memory surely.

"No! Hermione. Please. Tell me." Harry snapped into attention, placing a mental note to get rid of Malfoy's tone in his head. It was annoying and something he needed to work on.

"No. It's alright, Harry." She held his hand tightly, and, sitting right in front of him, flung her arms around him, hugging him again. "I'm just glad we're alive. You're alive."

"I know, Hermione. Me too." He said truthfully, hugging her back.

She peeled herself from him and looked at him in the eye seriously, before they softened and she caved, looking down.

"Did you really mean it?" she asked, looking at her hands.

"What?"

"Don't make me say it, Harry."

She had planned to talk about it much later, and in private, after the affairs of the day were done. But it had nagged her for a while, flustered that she did not notice it. That was the point, she knew, but Hermione thought she knew Harry better than that. A quick recap of their past year made her realise that it was so. To be fair, they were trying to save Wizarding Britain, but it was still hard for her to accept. It was her personal pride as Harry Potter's best friend, that she could understand him better than anyone, except Ron maybe. But only because Ronald and Harry shared boy things, a part of his life that Hermione did not wish to touch.

Still, the thought that Harry liked her – no, loved her was the implication – was… what was it? Flattering? Yes. Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and coincidentally the Boy-Everyone-In-The-Girl's-Dormitories-Fantasised-Over-At-Some-Point was in love with her. It seemed so real, too heavy for her to grasp. Was it how she felt with Ron? The ache that she felt during his absence?

_God bloody damn it._ The Harry-voice cursed as Harry's previously happy face fell.

"You know we don't have to talk about this. We've got lots more important things to do." Harry replied, stifling the Malfoy-voice that taunted him about Gryffindor courage and how "Slytherin" that answer was with a vengeance.

"How long?" she asked, pushing the issue although she was not really sure why. All she knew was that she had to know, she had to know when it began, if only to give it a time and a place. It mattered to her, and that was important. She felt as if she deserved that from their friendship.

"Since the day of Dumbledore's funeral." Harry admitted, earning a small gasp from Hermione.

"That long?"

"Yes." Was his only answer. Had it been that long? Perhaps longer. Ginny was an exercise in moving on, he would never admit it, but it was. He had always had a crush on Hermione that much was sure. A small crush, to be fair, but a crush nonetheless. But she had eyes only for Ron, she _still_ had eyes only for Ron.

"And you kept…" why was she asking? She thought to herself aloud in her mind, before sighing, her hands wringing themselves unconsciously.

"Yes." He answered her unspoken question.

"Why?" She replied, now feeling even more flustered.

"Because Ron fancied you and you fancied Ron. You fancy Ron now. Merlin, Hermione, You love him!" he exclaimed, and in a softer voice, he added "And I didn't want to lose both my best friends because of what _I _felt." There was a tinge – or perhaps something larger – of bitterness in his voice. Halfway from being like a child who didn't get what he wanted to the adult acceptance of it never happening. "I would destroy our friendship and I didn't want that." Harry had long ago decided to place their friendship tantamount to everything else.

"And you kept it a _secret?"_ Hermione asked, leaning back on the hair and heaving a sigh.

"What else was there to do?" he asked trying to look anywhere but at her. Why, Harry wanted to ask the god that created his universe, why did she have to bring up the question? He had hoped, a part of him at least that she would just leave it for the crows. That they would not need to talk about it.

Hermione wanted to ask why. Why Harry kept it a secret. He could have told her.

_Then what?_ She asked herself. _Then nothing._

_You'd have broken a boy's heart just to know. That is unfair. And he's had far too many unfair things in his life._

Sod off, Hermione. She told herself and they sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry, Harry." She finally spoke, looking up to see Harry nod slowly.

"I know. But it's not your fault, Hermione. I guess things just…" his voice cracked at that and he looked up at her, smiling his laconic smile. A sad one, for Harry's smiles had always been sad to her. Even when they were happy. For the past year, in the previous timeline, she had strived to make him smile daily. A small story, a joke. And he would allow himself a smile. A look in her eye that in retrospect she knew was something else. It was a sad smile for her. He, Hermione's keeper, saviour of the wizarding world. A good man, was not getting what he wanted. And she remembered, in the span of an instant, just how sad that smile looked, especially in the forest when they camped out, alone, together. It was a smile of despair. A grimace.

Harry looked down now, unable to stand her gaze at him. She loved Ron that much was clear. Temporally, they were at a time when neither Ron nor Hermione realised just how much they fancied each other and was probably his best chance but he would never do that to Ron, not especially to Hermione. He wanted them both to be happy, and if it was with each other, then Harry could accept it.

Still finding Hermione staring at him, he stood and walked over to the enchanted plate, grabbing some more food. "Anyway, I haven't eaten in days. D'you want anything, Hermione?" there was an unspoken plea there. To let it go and drop it. She dropped it, knowing that she had crossed the line of knowing and had started hurting him. She sat back down on the chair beside him, looking at her empty hands. No wand, and yet she had managed to hurt him more than any magic could.

"No, I had a large breakfast, thank you." She said, turning to the business of the day. "So who did you invite again? Remus, Sirius, and Snape?" she asked, trying to get her head out of the idea that Harry Potter liked her.

"Remus and Sirius will be here by 10, Snape will be here earlier." He looked at the magical clock on the wall. It was only 8AM, surprised that their little exchange had taken longer than he expected.

"Well, that's good." She said, picking at a Bertie Botts bean as Harry shoveled more food on his plate. "What else have you done yesterday? I was surprised you didn't reply quickly." She asked.

"I went here, got my finances in order. I figure we'll be needing them if it goes down like the last time." He replied, sitting beside her and putting food from the plate to his mouth with efficiency.

"We should tell Ron. That reminds me." Hermione snapped out of her trance with the bean.

"Mm." Was Harry's half-hearted reply, making Hermione look at him.

"What?" The eighteen year old in a fifteen year old's body asked. Harry did not seem to be all that happy to share what had happened with Ron.

"Well… " he paused, a long one, looking at her before looking down at his plate, a hand on a slice of pie. "I don't… really trust him after the forest." He muttered quickly, placing the food down.

"Harry! It's Ron!" she said, now scandalised. This was _her_ boyfriend, after all.

"Yeah. And he's… well, flaky. And I don't know, Hermione. It's not because you're with him or anything, it's just…" he finished lamely.

An angered breath exhaled from Hermione's nostrils, flaring them at her best friend and soul mate. "But Harry! He came back for us, remember?"

"And where was he before that? He left us. Thinking you and I had a thing. He couldn't even bloody trust us with keeping it in our pants, Hermione!" his voice was raised now.

_Sure, Potter. As if you could keep it in your pants with the Beaver around._ Malfoy-voice said snidely.

It was a point of contention for Harry who still had not forgiven Ron over his insult to his family and his perceived lack of concern for Ginny. Sure, Harry had always thought that it was just the Horcrux, but he knew that deep down, Ron had always felt that way. Overshadowed not only at home but also in school, his fear that Hermione would choose Harry was unfounded – Harry knew that painfully – and Harry still could not forgive him for leaving not just him but Hermione alone. He could never bring himself to hate Ronald Weasley, his best mate, but – with all his feelings for Hermione aside – he couldn't bear to trust him either.

"That was the Horcrux, Harry." She replied coldly now, barely reining in on her anger.

"Not just. And you know it." Harry shot back, his fifteen year old features reflecting the battle-hardened 17 year old he truly was.

"Yes but it was magnified! We don't even know if he'll act the same way!" she shouted now, angry at Harry and at Ron. She knew Harry had a point. But surely Harry could have forgiven him?

The silence was her answer. Harry did not know either, but he was far beyond trusting Ron.

"Please, Harry. You must. We have to. It's _Ron._" She whispered, hands clasped together pleading. She knew she would never be able to say anything about Ron without Harry's dispensation.

"I can't trust him, Hermione. He wasn't there with me. He's been flaking out on me since the beginning. I mean…" he slapped his palm to his forehead, leaning on the chair. "You? You've been there. All of it. I've never had a better friend. But Ron's been… Ron."

"He's been your friend far longer than anyone and he's been with you the whole time, Harry Potter. And if you can't accept that just because I love him –"Hermione had snapped, and it took her mind a quick second to catch up to the bubbling anger inside him. She had stood up to Harry, looking down at him with anger in her features.

Harry, on the other hand, had no such censors. "It's not about that, Hermione! Merlin, I was alright with you being in love with him, remember? I was supposed to survive the war and leave you two to your happy life and I was supposed to be alone, alright?!" His voice was much higher now and his mind struggled to keep the thoughts away.

"But it's not about that, Hermione. It's about Ron. He's been with me, yeah. And I can't thank him enough for it but I can't trust him! I just can't! He left _me_! He left me for dead because I was supposedly without a plan, because I didn't care enough for his bleeding sister. He insulted my family, he's thought of himself the whole time he was with me because he _wanted to be me!_" he was shouting now. Having stood up.

"He never wanted to be _you_, Harry. He just wanted to be someone. Not Harry Potter's best friend!" It had all but devolved into a shouting match between Harry and Hermione, both very passionate about their stances.

"Then he never should have been near me in the first place." Harry finally whispered, tearing his face away from Hermione's gaze.

"How could you not trust him, Harry? It's Ron." She whispered, her voice cracking in despair.

"Because unlike you, Hermione, he's rarely around for the bad parts." He muttered. "Whenever I'm in trouble or whenever I'm not feeling myself because of Voldemort, he's doing something else. With Dean, with the others. It's only when the good parts happen that he always seems to be there. I've thought about this even before we were sent back, Hermione. I've always felt like Ron's only around me because of the good bits or, well, you." He turned back at Hermione now, a wry smile on his face.

She could not process this thought, her feelings clouded by her emotions of Ronald. However, she nodded. "I need time to think about this." She finally said. She couldn't think straight. She had never imagined getting into a row with Harry over Ron, nor did she think that what he said was true. She needed time to think about it.

"I don't want to tell her, Hermione. I don't want him to do the whole 'Why wasn't I included' speech again." Harry sat back down, his knees wobbly over this argument. One that he did not expect, but he should have.

"So you're not telling him?" Hermione said, wanting to stop thinking about it.

"You can." Harry offered.

"But you won't." Hermione finished for him. "You'll let me tell him but not you." She raised her hands in surrender and sat back down. "Well that's just great. He'll think I'm a bloody mad witch."

"No he won't. He fancies you. And besides, it's you. You won't say anything without proof anyway." Harry retorted. "But I… don't want to talk to him about it just yet."

"Fine!" Hermione shouted.

"Fine." Harry mumbled, an uncomfortable silence falling over them.


	4. New Plan

**Author's Note: **I think anyone who reads Harmony can agree that we're the camp that believes that Ron is terrible for Hermione because of Reasons A, B, C, and probably ZZ, but the point is that Hermione chose Ron. Everyone in the Harmony ship believes that it's a terrible choice, but it's a choice nonetheless. No love potions here, folks. Just plain old stupid love. Even the smartest witch in her generation would fall for the dumbest.

Right, I forgot that I'd keep the Weasel bashing to a minimum. For the, er, less fortunate then

Anywhats. Thank you for the reviews! This next chapter has come early, mostly because it was nagging at me. It will feature a different Snape and I have a reason for that. I've always wondered who the real Snape was, someone we never truly got an image of. We've never seen Snape drink tea in a relaxed mood, always on the defensive. I'm not going to condone all the bad things that he did _before_ he returned to the Light, but he did and to most people, that's what matters. Anyone who thinks the world is black and white is both pitiful and enviable.

* * *

"Harry." Hermione said after a long span of silence. She had returned to looking anywhere other than Harry, who in turn had returned to looking anywhere her face wasn't. It was painful and hurtful, for the both of them to speak about Ron when he wasn't there to defend himself. It was inconceivable for her that Harry would think that way of Ron. She wanted to attribute it to the loss of his childhood where he wasn't given a proper one. That Harry, like any good human, muggle or wizard alike, wasn't as emotionally scarred. And yet a part of her could not believe what he had just said. Some of it was true, she knew. Ron had always been a bit of a glory hound, but that too was understandable, having been shadowed all his life.

"What?" Harry snapped back, before his features softened. "Sorry." He apologised. "Sorry." He repeated, before sighing.

"Let's not talk about this right now, please. We'll have a lot of time after. We need to get our story straight for Snape and the others." She forced herself back into a way of thinking that was more in line with his. Saving the Wizarding world and all that.

"Right." Harry straightened from his seat, looking at her. "What do we tell them?"

"The truth, Harry. We have to both agree for it to be so. I'm guessing that your mum put up some powerful occlumency in our heads to make sure that no one gets to see it." She admitted. She couldn't feel it, not really, but she had a hunch it was so.

Harry nodded. "But where do we begin?" He asked her, and she was about to speak when the small buzzer by the table came on.

"Yes?" Harry asked, as the voice of a goblin came through.

"Severus Snape has arrived, Mr. Potter." He looked at Hermione in panic, who nodded reassuringly. It was not the time for either of them to speak of Ron.

"Let him in." Harry said, waiting before Snape arrived.

And arrive he did. Severus Snape, in his black flowing robes and greasy hair was just as much a sight for sore eyes as he had been all those years ago. This Snape, however, had a wand raised at the both of them.

"How. Did. You. Know." Snape said with barely concealed disdain and anger. He had long buried that part of his life, hiding his emotions for the death of one of his few friends. James Potter was that to Snape, that much was clear, but neither told anyone other than Lily Evans – he refused, as a way of marking limits, to call her Potter – about it.

Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded.

"Because we died two years from now and went to see Lily Potter who told us that was what you said before you and James spoke candidly. As friends." Harry began, taking a deep breath to continue but finding himself cut off by Snape.

"If you think, Potter, that this is some joke then you had best stop now." He his head snapped to Hermione.

"It's not, Professor. It's the truth." She said in defence, wincing as he saw Snape's smile. The smile that meant that she had said something wrong.

"Granger, you know that time travel and resurrection are both impossible through magical means. If we were in school, I'd have deducted a thousand points from Gryffindor." Snape said, his normal monotone now shaking in rage. "You will tell me how you learned of this, Potter and Granger." It was a secret that he had kept, and one that risked his position with Voldemort.

"I wouldn't say it was impossible, Professor. Only that it has never been validated. And that's completely beside the point!" Hermione exclaimed, slightly annoyed now. After the stress of dealing with Harry, she was in no mood to deal with Snape.

"From my mother, alright, Snape?" Harry was tired as well, looking at Snape and walking towards the Pumpkin juice. "Merlin, I wish I could have some of that." He muttered, looking at the Firewhiskey longingly.

Who else could have known? Snape thought. He knew that what the two were saying was impossible, but if they had died two years in the future, what had happened? Was everything he sacrificed in vain?

"Start from the beginning." The greasy professor said, sitting and looking at the Firewhiskey-Harry-Couldn't-Have. He had a sinking feeling that the two were not lying. They never truly did, that much was certain. And it took a lot more than two bred Gryffindors to lie about something so stupid as death and time travel.

"Well…" Harry said, sipping his juice and looking at Hermione. "I guess we can begin when you died." He said and they began telling him the story.

It was thirty minutes later, agreeing to start earlier than when he had died, about several hundred questions, and the realisation, at least in Snape's head, that Dumbledore was a twat for letting him die – for letting _him_ kill the old man. He also decided that the Firewhiskey would need to be opened. At the end of it all, however, he realised that the two knew far too much of the Order's plans, of Voldemort's plans, and of Dumbledore's plans to be fibbing. There was no way they could have known that much unless it was…

"Time travel." Snape said, having finished the glass of alcohol he was nursing. He had become a different person in front of them, perhaps it was the Oil and Water and Lillies that broke him or the realisation that the two truly were from the future.

"Yes. Professor." Hermione said, allowing it to sink in.

"Bloody hell." He muttered under his breath, catching the two off-guard. They had never heard Snape curse. "How is she, then?"

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Your mother, Potter. Who else am I to care for? Yourself?" he returned to his snidely monotone.

"She's fine. She's in a lot of stress about this. I've apparently died six times…"

"Pity I didn't see even one." He heard Snape cut him off and looked at the two of them evenly. "What do you want?"

"Help. Your help, Snape." Harry finally said, looking at the glass that held Snape's whiskey. He really wanted a try at it, even if he probably knew it would taste vile. Still, Harry being seventeen in his head wanted a taste.

"Obviously." Snape said slowly, before taking a deep breath. "I want to know specifics, Potter. What do you have planned? I need to know this as the Dark Lord is back and will probably call on me." He spoke.

"Wait. You just trust us? Just like that?" Hermione was doubtful, extremely so given the circumstances.

"Yes, Miss Granger." Snape said, eyeing her. "What else is there for me to do? You've told me everything the Dark Lord has been planning, what the Order has been planning, and what Dumbledore has been planning before either of you could have possibly known about it.." He sighed at the last bit before continuing. "And while it is possible that one of the Weasleys could have given you information about Dumbledore's or the Order's plans, you do not have another Death Eater in your pocket to know of the Dark Lord's."

"Why they decided to bring both of you rather than someone competent is beyond me, however." This was a Snape that they were both half-familiar with. Familiar because he just could not let the snide remarks slide, but also unfamiliar because he was giving them the light of day talking about their cockamamie plan.

"Well. Um. First we need Polyjuice potions." Harry told Snape, looking at Hermione who agreed. "We need to do other things first before we go to our respective homes, or if the Order is planning on moving the both of us to 12 Grimmauld Place." The two, who had been told in the previous timeline where the Order headquarters were still remembered it.

"Fascinating. So time travel trumps the Fidelius Charm." Snape said, the spell crafter in him was interested in that but nodded. "I can have the Polyjuice potions ready in the hour. I have some pre-made." He said, then put his chin on his upright palm, his cheeks showing a slight flush from the Firewhiskey.

"But you just trust us." Hermione still was in the process of believing that it had gone so simply with Snape.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I do. But only, like every bloody time I trusted Harry Potter, because of his mother whom I so dearly love." He finally said with much anger. "I can only be this candid to the both of you because you have invoked James' code and nothing more. That being said, I refuse to be kept in the dark any longer, I do not wish to kill anyone, even that sodding Dumbledore and you have my support in finally ending the Dark Lord's menace so I can get on with my life failing stupid Gryffindors like yourselves in Potions!" there was a mixture of the old Snape and the new one in his tone, one that rightly sent shivers down their spines.

"What I do not understand, however." Snape finally calmed. "Is why Mr. Weasley isn't around." He had expected Ronald Weasley to be around them. The bullheaded glory hound had had to be cleaned up after many times and was, while brave and valiant (disgustingly Gryffindor traits), was also very jealous and insecure.

"We… haven't told him yet." Harry quickly answered.

Snape could not help but notice the scandalised look on Granger's face when Potter blurted that tidbit out but nodded. "So he was not sent back in time?" he asked.

"No. We died before he did." Hermione said, the words seemed awkward to even think about, let alone say.

"Interesting. Managed to save himself from his own wand, I suppose." Snape mused before standing, taking a second to balance himself. Two tumblers of firewhiskey were rarely enough to render him drunk, but the heady ideas floated about were more than sufficient.

Hermione's scowl at that managed to allow Snape to smirk before pulling out the coin. "I suppose this shall allow me to return with the Polyjuice?" Snape asked and Harry nodded.

"Wait. Sirius and Remus will most likely be here when you do. So try to not goad them, alright?" Harry almost pleaded. He really did not want to be an underage caster in between three of the most prominent duelists of their time.

Snape's silence, however, was his only answer as he ported himself out back into the main hall of Gringotts, presumably to get Polyjuice.

Harry sighed in relief, then looked at the empty tumbler of firewhiskey.

"Don't you dare, Harry." He heard her voice and immediately his hand balled into a fist to prevent himself from taking it and pouring himself one.

"Fine." He replied, then grunting. "I can't believe we have to do all of this again with Sirius and Remus." He mumbled. Telling Snape the entire story was exhausting, especially since they had done it in under thirty minutes. They had skipped much of the parts that shouldn't really interest the man, they both knew. The fact that Ron left, the death of Dobby, Bellatrix Lestrange…

"You set the times." Hermione commented, still not looking straight at Harry now. She was still seething over his implication that Ron was an opportunistic git.

Harry grunted again at that, head propped up on the table as another wave of silence encompassed the room.

"I still can't believe you love me." Hermione blurted, her hand stifling her lips a moment too late.

"Is it so hard to believe? I mean, you're always there for me, and you're a good person and you're really beautiful." Harry shrugged.

"Yes, but I was always just second-best to you." She retorted.

"No you weren't. I always went to you when I had a problem. Ever since Umbridge in the fifth year I knew you were more trustworthy than Ron." He shot back.

"Ron was always closer to you though. I never thought I'd be. I always felt like a third wheel with you two around." She muttered. "I wasn't even picked for your Tri-Wizard test." Hermione admitted the bitterness over it, something she had never told anyone, especially not Harry.

"Didn't matter. I'd have saved you. I'd have wanted to save everyone." A small laugh escaped Harry's lips. "But I'd have saved you faster." He looked at her and grinned, earning him an eye roll.

"I'm sorry about what I said, Harry." She began. "But I don't think Ron's all that bad. I mean, you're right. He has…issues. But… well, maybe you'll forgive him for the things he hasn't done yet."

"Maybe." Harry admitted. This Ron had not done what his Ron had. But that, to him, didn't mean that this Ron was not as bad as that one.

"Well, we'll see him in a bit anyway. I guess I can tell him and see what happens." She finished, before looking at a piece of still-warm pie on the serving platter and reaching for it. She retracted her hand immediately, however, when the buzzer sounded and the voice of an amused goblin came through.

"Mr. Potter? Remus Lupin and Sirius Black for you, sir." It spoke. "Shall I let them in?"

"Make it so, number one." Harry said with a grin.

"Sir?" The goblin asked confusedly.

"Yes, please. Let them in." He said with a chuckle, turning to Hermione.

"What? I saw that on the telly while I was cleaning the living room." Harry responded to the befuddled look on her face.

"I'm just surprised you get American telly." She replied.

"Uncle Vernon doesn't even know we have that channel. He normally sticks to the BBC." He said before standing, waiting the requisite two seconds for the pop and the shuffle.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had an extremely long conversation before and after the apparition process. Both increasingly worried about their best friend's child who had, all of a sudden, decided to meet them in Gringotts. Gringotts, of all places! It was a strange place to meet, but by far the safest given the circumstances. Sirius Black's own youthful adventures at the local bank was marred by the presence of his father and mother and practically every other Black there was, with the exception of his cousin Tonks who would copy every Goblin they had spoken to afterwards.

What was surprising, however, was that while Sirius was in Dog Form – for he was still, after all, a fugitive of the Ministry, the goblin knew immediately that it was he and did not call for the Sixth Squad of Aurors, the group designated to catching fugitives like himself.

"Mr. Lupin and, ah, friend." The goblin who immediately grinned. "Mr. Potter is waiting for you. Please use this port key." The goblin offered them two coins, which the two held and immediately found themselves pulled out from under their feet.

"Sirius, Remus." Harry greeted the two wizards who had their wands up at the moment they were ported, looking around for anything to fire at. They had expected the worst, and all they came up with was Harry Potter in front of a serving plate of food, an empty tumbler of firewhiskey on one side, one Hermione Granger, whom Sirius had always thought was a bit of a know-it-all.

"Harry. Hermione." Remus greeted, still looking around before tapping Sirius on the shoulder for the all-clear. They placed their wands down, albeit hesitantly, and looked at the two. "Mind explaining why we're here?"

"Well, we have to tell you something." Hermione began, but was cut off by a seething Sirius.

"It had better bloody well be important, to risk you coming out here, what if Voldemort comes knocking? Do you think Gringotts could save you?" He was livid, clearly, and the two raised their hands in surrender to calm him.

"Sirius, we need to talk. Please. Just sit down." Hermione finally said. "We have food." She offered, pushing the enchanted serving plate towards them.

"Fine, but only because of the pies. And because you're my godson." Sirius said, nodding to Remus before sitting right beside Harry. Lupin had sat beside Hermione, much in the same way body guards would.

"Oh, right. I forgot, can someone cast the Muffliato charm? Harry and I can't do it because we're underage." Hermione spoke up. She had completely forgotten it before Snape's arrival, and the stress of dealing with Harry about Ron and regaling their deaths to Snape had made her a bit out of it.

"The…what?" Sirius asked, already busy placing food on his plate.

"Muffliato. It's a sound charm, makes it so no one can eavesdrop on us." She raised her wandless hand and did the movements. Remus and Sirius' jaws gaped at the reveal.

"Where did you learn that? Are they teaching that at Charms? Did Flitwick cook something up?" he looked to Remus, who had more experience with Hogwarts teaching than any of them.

"No. This is… huh." Remus broke off, pulled out his wand again and copied the spell's movements. Immediately all four felt the rush of sound-inhibiting magic. "Well that's…" he said after a few moments.

"Amazing. Did you two come up with this?" Harry shook his head at Sirius' question.

"Snape did, actually. But that's not the point. Well. Sort of. Look, we have to tell you something." He looked to Hermione, who nodded.

"We're from the future." Harry spoke, waiting for them to scream at disbelief.

"I've heard better pranks." Sirius said after a few moments, looking to Remus who shrugged, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Padfoot. Kids these days aren't very original, don't you think?" Remus Lupin's wolfish grin was mimicked by Sirius Black's dog-like one.

"We can prove it." Hermione said, now indignant that the two still thought of it as a prank. Sirius, possibly, she could understand. Remus, however, she expected a more logical train of thought.

And so began yet another hour of them trying to explain to the two Marauders just what had occurred.

"You died?" Remus looked flabbergasted at Sirius, who shrugged.

"Bad luck, I suppose." Was his best defence. "And through the Veil too. Nasty way to go." He grunted.

They continued on, Harry and Hermione filling in the details as they remembered it, finding themselves at a heated conversation when they had gotten to the part where Tonks and Remus admitted to liking each other.

"You fancy my cousin?!" Sirius Black sat up now, his hand holding a tumbler of firewhiskey that was about half-way through its bottom.

"Y-Yes." Remus admitted, looking at Harry helplessly. How had he known? Already his mind was racing a mile a minute. There were, other explanations. Occlumency? Legillimens?

"You get to be a part of the family!" Sirius was almost ecstatic about this. Almost, and then he remembered that this was _his _cousin. More importantly, the _only_ cousin he liked.

"Ugh. And you get children? Ugh, Moony. Eugh. Do you even know where to put it in?" he faked gagging noises as Remus punched him on the shoulder.

"Sod off, Black."

"You'll be a Black too, before you know it."

"I can't wait for your mother's portrait to meet me as a family member."

"Neither can I." they both guffawed in laughter at that before Harry and Hermione continued.

"The portrait, at 12 Grimmauld Place, isn't that right?" Harry said, speaking it as proof.

"Yes… how did you know about that?" Sirius sat up, what little buzz had developed from his Firewhiskey intake was gone now that the realisation that Harry and Hermione knew of the place, cast under a Fidelius Charm.

"Because Dumbledore, the secret keeper, told us. In the future. I swear, are you listening?" Hermione was frustrated now. They were wasting time. They knew where the horcruxes were and with the exception of Nagini could end this before the start of classes.

"Well. Um. Yes. I mean." Sirius flustered, then looked to Remus for a bit of help.

"Yes, but the point is, you both know that time travel is impossible, not to mention resurrection!" Remus finally spoke, having been outed in the same way that Harry was about Sirius' cousin.

"Yes. But here we are. We're soul mates." Hermione slightly cringed at the term. It seemed so… trivial. But so real. "That's why we were the ones sent back. Lily says hello. And that you should get your act together, Sirius." She added, Sirius swallowing.

Harry, of course, knew that his mother had never said such a thing, but nodded anyway. He knew that Sirius had been unstable – being in Azkaban all those years, seeing his friends dead, and in the cusp of another Wizarding war, even the great Duellist that was Sirius Black was no match for the pains of life and reality.

"What do you mean?" Sirius shot back, still trying to play indignant.

"In our timeline, Sirius, you _played_ with Bellatrix Lestrange, which was why you lost. You didn't take any steps to allow for your freedom, and you alienated everyone around you, even Moony here." Harry looked to Remus, who was slowly nodding. It had not happened yet, of course, but Remus knew it was.

The werewolf understood, of course. Of anyone in the Marauders he was best to understand. Sirius had effectively traded one cage for another. 12 Grimmauld Place was just as bad as Azkaban, hardly the freedom Sirius had been expecting. He was, of course, much better off there. But that along with the fact that he was still cooped up for a crime he did not commit, was more than enough.

Sirius caught Remus nodding, who looked at him shocked. "What do you mean pushing people away?"

Remus smiled sadly, remembering that his best friend had the emotional maturity of a 12 year old. "You're locked up in HQ, Sirius. Can't do anything. Can't save the world. Can't even know what's changed. We must change that if you're to be of any use to us, not to mention having my best friend back…" he sighed. "I sometimes don't know who came out of Azkaban, old friend." He turned to Sirius, whose face had grown steely. "All I know is that it was a shadow of my best friend."

Sirius slowly nodded, remember what had been, who he had been. He was someone else, that was true. But only with Remus' admittance, and Harry and Hermione's revelation did he truly understand.

"Supposing." He began. "Supposing that this is true. What are we going to do about it? We can all agree that Dumbledore has been manipulating this, for reasons unknown to us." He said, trying to push the thought of his apparent impending death away.

"Well, the reasons are clear to me, Sirius. Dumbledore thinks that the fulfillment of the prophecy is the only way to do this. Else, he'd have had us doing raids at Death Eaters by now. I can't blame him. The prophecy does seem to be clear on the matter." Remus pointed out.

"But Harry lost that one." Hermione pointed out and the two nodded.

"Due to a lack of practice and possibly willpower, two things that this Harry has now. But getting other people to go with this plan is going to be more troublesome. We must keep this within the family, some specific people." Remus countered.

"To share the secret?" Harry and Hermione said together, slightly shocked.

"So you believe us?" The Boy-Who-Lived asked and the two nodded.

"I would not doubt a child of James and Lily to lie, Harry Potter. Nor would I think that you had the nerve to cause a prank so serious. Everything you've said amounts to it being real. Even if it may just be a shared dream between the both of you, there are too many truths for it to be untrue." Remus said seriously.

"Plus, I'd rather not die this year. Or any year." Sirius said with a grin, Remus mirroring it.

"Yes, it would be a shame. I would have to continue the Half-Black line alone." Remus answered, earning him a punch from Sirius.

"That's my cousin you're talking about."

"You can call her Remus' future-wife." Remus said smugly and the two youngsters laughed.

"It's not perfect, you know. Destiny can change because of your free-will." Harry said, wincing at the thought.

"Yes, but at least I know that she fancies me back. All I have to do is stop being so insecure about my finances, my age, and my condition." Replied the werewolf as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"We've got to change the issue on your finances, old friend. You are the only adult here with some say in anything regarding the Ministry, and even then it isn't much with your werewolf issue." Sirius spoke and the three nodded in agreement.

"But first we need to get Sirius free. That's the only way he can help us with what's in store." Hermione finally spoke. "He still has his family name going for him, not to mention the experience." She looked at Sirius who grunted, closing his eyes and delving into deep thought, ignoring the small pop that had sounded.

"I don't want to deal with the Ministry, to be honest." He finally spoke.

"Oh but you must, Sirius. Black." Snape's clear monotone pierced the room, making the two marauders jump from their seats, wands raised at Snape.

The former Death Eater, however, rolled his eyes. "Sod off." He said, truly un-Snapelike.

He sat and grabbed his tumbler of firewhiskey, refilling it. "I see these people are the ones you've decided to tell, mm? Fugitives and werewolves." He eyed the two, who was still in the process of being told off by Snivellus Snape.

"Yes, please, calm down. Snape is a good friend of my mum's and my dad's." Harry began, earning him a bark of laughter from Sirius.

"And who told you that, mm? Lily? Sure, Lily might have been this weasel's friend, but never James."

"Actually, he was, they spent a lot of time as friends, for what it's worth." Hermione said, frowning that she couldn't just disarm the two due to their Trace.

"It's true. I even know his favourite brand of ice cream." Severus said nonchalantly. It was a different Snape from whom they all knew, a Snape he had kept secret all those years. Only Lily and James had ever seen him this way. Only Lily and James had seen him collapsed on the floor drunk too.

"Persimmon." He told the four, as if the answer itself was the word of Merlin. The two Marauders' eyes went wild at that, however.

"He never told me that." Remus admitted.

"He told me once. When he was drunk." The other Marauder spoke.

"Same. I had to get about three of these things into him. And _that_ was with my drunkenness potion." Snape afforded them a half-smile at the memory.

"But you were always an ass." Sirius exclaimed, still unwilling to believe that.

Snape downed his tumbler of alcohol before looking at Sirius in the eye. "Do you not remember, Sirius Black, what made James Potter famous? Why you were his friends in the first place?" His eyes wandered to Remus, who could not bear the stare.

"He, like his wife, my beloved Lily, could see what little good there was in people, and cultivate it into something larger. Because of my personal stake in Lily's safety, I was there often, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, or worse, transfigured as part of the furniture." He winced at that. "How else did I get to their place in time? I was a lamp post outside Godric's Hollow for hours before the alarm charms sounded, instantly transfiguring me back into a wizard." Snape was impatient with this explanation.

"Truth be told, I am in James Potter and Lily Evans' life debt. Eugh." He made a face. "Even the thought of it makes me cringe. That is why I have given my life to this boy." His finger pointed quickly at Harry. "And I have to play the Death Eater again." He sighed deeply at that. "It gnaws on my soul, this whole business. And to be the one to kill Dumbledore in the future… no." he shook his head. "I cannot let that happen. Not this time." He looked at them evenly. "Believe me, if you wish, but in the presence of these two, I am myself. Outside, I am…" a wider smile this time. "Snivellus." He said in his trademark voice.

Sirius Black, however, had had just about enough of the revealing for the day, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine!" he looked at Severus with venom, a stare reciprocated by the Potions Master. "But I still don't get why we're all here. I mean, that's great. We know everything. But with Remus as a destitute werewolf, myself as a fugitive, and two underage wizards, not to mention a former Death Eater, we have no capability of even holding our own against the Ministry, much less Dumbledore or Voldemort!" he was angry now, and only the calming hand of his brother in arms relieved him of some of the emotion.

"Ah, but there is a way, Lord Sirius Black." Severus smiled, a truly Slytherin smile that held no joy, only lots and lots of plotting.

"We're listening." Remus spoke for his friend, who was very close to hexing Snape. The two time travellers listened intently, having only formed a plan up to this point. They both understood, however, why Lily wanted them in the same room, talking civilly. Between the three of them lived one of the most important weapons of the war. Love.

Severus' love for Lily was extended to Harry, Sirius and Remus' friendship to the two extended to Harry as well. That great power that Dumbledore had spoken of with awe was true enough for them to stop bashing heads to do one goal, defeat the Dark Lord. And though none of them truly knew it, the strength of this love extended to Hermione through Harry.

"We can deal with the Horcruxes later. If we do deal with them now, we will be forcing the Dark Lord's hand, and he still has much power in him that young Potter here cannot fight, even with his knowledge. We must rally the people against the Dark Lord. I know for a fact that Fudge is all but ready to have Harry Potter in chains for any misdemeanor and with what they told us, it had begun at this time as well. It is clear that the first order of business is to take control of the Ministry." Snape concluded.

"Oh yes. Well, easy as pie, isn't it?" Sirius retorted, only to be waved away by the Potions Master.

"Quite, actually. All we have to do is exonerate you and you will return to your seat in the Wizengamot. From there, it is an easy leap to questioning some of their more…" he paused, "questionable practices." He said, looking at Remus, who had now caught on.

"By Merlin…" the werewolf breathed, the plan now solidifying in his mind. He was always the smart one, Remus was. Always quite technical about all the pranks that James and Sirius did. A brilliant man, albeit overshadowed by them.

"Yes. That will also give me some credibility with the Dark Lord, as well as with the Ministry." The Head of House Slytherin had always saved something for himself, something that the other four finally understood.

"So you're going to be taking him in?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I believe I shall do so with the most questionable of institutions behind me, the Daily Prophet." That part was not going to be pleasurable for him.

"But aren't they just going to put Sirius to the Dementors immediately, like last time?" Harry asked, finding the one problem with the plan, although Sirius shook his head.

"Fudge would never pass over a chance to prove that the Dark Lord is dead, Harry. The very public trial of myself will be the most talked about thing in the century. I will, however, need a lawyer." He looked to Remus, who nodded.

"It will be nice to play lawyer." Remus admitted. "I was supposed to be in the DMLE too." He looked at Harry and Hermione with pride. "One of the few people who took NEWTs in History of Magic."

Harry and even Hermione groaned at the thought of even taking NEWT level classes in History of Magic. Sirius did too.

"Send someone else." Snape countered. "It will be unlikely that Lupin will be allowed near him seeing as you are a werewolf and not a member of good standing."

Lupin's knuckles balled at Snape's implication, truthful as it may have been.

"If things go according to plan," Sirius began, noticing the change in his friend. "We can discuss changing that, but right now, I don't have anyone who can speak for myself that's versed in magical law." They all looked at each other for a long time, clueless.

"We can get Professor Marchbanks. She seems like a smart old woman who was good to us during our O.W.L.'s It has to be a member of the Wizengamot, doesn't it?" Hermione had been searching her memory for anyone who could have helped.

"I doubt she even trusts me." Sirius admitted. "Lady Grissy and I haven't seen each other in years. Not to mention all the bad press I've gotten. She's more likely to stun me all the way back to Azkaban."

"Then _make_ her trust you, Black. You _are_ innocent, aren't you?" Snape, unlike the Gryffindors, had no patience to be around Sirius' pity party.

"You bloody well know I am, Snivvy." Sirius replied coldly.

"Then if you can't get anyone to believe you, we have lost before we even began!" Snape hit the desk angrily, causing him to rise and Sirius with him.

"Oh are you asking for a fight, Snivellus?" Sirius was angered now, his hand clutching for his "borrowed" wand.

"Stop it, you two!" Harry shouted, silencing the entire room. The two immediately calmed, although there was much hard breathing between them.

"Harry's right. We have to work together. Or have you forgotten that?" Hermione had finally spoken. The plan and everything was going so well, and now they were going to fight? "Sirius, you have to. She's the best chance we've got. If you get your seat in the Wizengamot back, we can have the best healers of St. Mungo's looking after you." She stopped as Sirius looked at her.

"I'm not ill, Hermione." Sirius said evenly.

"The hell you're not! You're mentally unstable! Do you want to finish this right this time? Well it's not going to take a day. This is just the beginning. For all of us! Harry and I have to go back to school and we still have the Trace on us. We can't even cast magic without the Ministry knowing! We need someone there to protect us in case we have to!" Hermione shouted back.

"Remus can take care of your seat as your friend. I don't know, do they allow that? Or maybe even Andromeda, since she's the next Black. With you as head of house you can reinstate her into the family, cast Bellatrix out, and have Remus around without having to hide." Harry spoke now, calmer.

"And sit down, all of you. I didn't rent this room for ten galleons an hour just so we can _not_ use the chairs." Everyone save him had stood and they all returned to their seats.

"You can also gain custody of me so I don't have to live around the Dursleys anymore." He added as a kicker and Sirius nodded.

"Fine!" the dog shouted. "You all make good points. I'm still traumatized. But I'll be damned before I let anyone make a fool out of me in the Wizengamot!"

"Who said you were ever going to be made a fool of, Sirius Black? Aren't we simply doing what you all are good at?" Severus asked, raising a brow.

"And what is that, Snivvy? What the hell are we good at?" Sirius should have been able to catch on by now, but the raging emotions had still not stilled in the Black scion.

"Pranking other people and shaming them in front of the public." Snape said simply.

Sirius looked at him, confused.

Snape turned to Harry, then back to Sirius who sighed. "He really is your godfather." He finally spoke, then looked at Sirius evenly the traces of a genuine Snape-like smile on his face.

"We're going to prank the Ministry of Magic."


End file.
